


The Unconquered Sun

by sparklight



Series: The Suns of Tatooine [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gang needs to rescue Han and Luke needs a new lightsaber.</p><p>On top of that, thanks to his adventure with his father on the moon, Luke is determined to do something about his father and his father's situation. But he'll need a lightsaber first, and where better to start figure things out than Tatooine (since he's already here for Han)? Ben's hut is here, after all... But, after meditating at his family's graves, Ben's hut turns into nothing more than a pit stop, and it's not just his father who notices the waves created by the call Luke answers.</p><p>Tatooine is old, and she is bright, reflecting more than a little light; this wasn't at all what Palpatine had Seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back Where It Started

Watching the swirling, mottled blue of hyperspace, Darth Vader was regretting the datapad he'd given to Luke. 

The idea to forestall any further questions by giving the boy something to work with, was, he realised now, flawed. Very, very, flawed. Because by giving Luke the basics, he'd removed those as an easy buffer zone.

What would come next, he realised with some faint but mounting, horror, was more _personal_ questions. 

Artoo could answer some of them, of course; could reveal a surprising amount, but not _all_ of it. Would, probably, make sure not to answer all that he _could_ out of some imbecilic belief that _he_ should be the one to tell.

He would not.

Unfortunately, it was eight hours, forty three minutes and twenty eight seconds and counting too late to undo the flash of weakness that had led to the spur-of-the-moment decision to fill out the datapad with that file and give it to Luke. All in all, much, much too late. Given the distance between them by now, though, it was unlikely he'd have to confront his failure to keep his past in the past any time soon.

Luke would return to his Rebel friends, rescue Captain Solo and go back to being a thorn in his side, but as long as he was feasibly out of his reach he would not need to consider turning Luke over to his Master. 

Or talk to him, about... her, or anything else.

Pushing away the embarrassing flash of loss the thought of not talking to his son until they probably stood facing each other in front of his Master again, Vader gritted his teeth. It was for the best. Clutching his own wrist more firmly as he felt the echo of Luke's accusation over the whole thing ( _you would hand me over to him?_ , _I'm not going to kneel at the feet of a slave master._ ) burn through him, Vader had to concentrate to let his respirator do its work.

It had been simple.

It was not, any longer. Perhaps it never had been, and only his blinkered focus had made it seem so.

And while his son might work _with him_ to take down Palpatine, he would not yield to the very _reasonable_ demand of turning to the dark side. But how else was the child supposed to survive any encounter with the old Sith Master?

Turning away from the view of hyperspace, Vader closed his eyes and remembered all too easily the furious look of determination on Luke's face when he'd tried to hold him up from falling (or letting go) into the molten metal, and the same when he'd claimed he could be both Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader.

_So naïve, my son. That is not... how it works._

There was no answer, but he hadn't been attempting to reach out along the bond to its other end, anyway. It wasn't how he _wanted_ it to work, either. Anakin Skywalker had failed. Failed his wife and child...

The question was, would Darth Vader fail his son as well? The thought brought instant, furious denial and determination, along with the need to go order the _Executor_ to reverse out of hyperspace so he could, maybe, find his son again and bring him somewhere safe.

He would _not_ fail. 

But if he did, what was even _left_?

***  
Leaning quietly against Artoo in the shadow of a stall and chewing some nearly shockingly expensive frozen treat he'd indulged in after his meal while he waited for the _Falcon_ to come out of hyperspace and land, Luke could admit he was still pretty angry. 

Five days since that Sith moon escapade, two and a half since he'd spoken to Yoda and Ben after jumping (almost) straight to Dagobah instead of flying to the current Fleet rendezvous point to get some answers. One day since his short stop at the Fleet for a debriefing, then a few hours later he'd left a message for his friends to come to Tatooine as soon as possible.

Two and a half days after his Dagobah visit and he was still quietly frustrated at the explanations given. No apologies, sincere or not. Explanations which both Jedi Masters felt were justified and made up for their lies, omissions, and plain not telling him.

There was still a faint chill clinging to his thoughts from the realisation that Yoda's comment about him not being ready for the burden had been because he hadn't been training for long enough to be able to disregard Vader's revelation as unimportant. And that he was now supposed to disregard it and confront him and kill him, _anyway_.

There was, also, once again, a pretty strong burst of guilt; that was probably what he _should_ do, not just for the sake of his aspirations as a Jedi, but for the Alliance - the whole _Galaxy_ \- as well.

Dragging a hand through his hair and looking up at the sunlight glinting off ships - none of them being the _Falcon_ , yet - Luke shook his head. He couldn't do that. Not for _any_ of them. Not before, and even less _now_. Ben and Yoda didn't believe his father could be turned back, and maybe he couldn't. 

But he had to _try_.

That thought, the vague hope that had sprung up, born only during that... half day?, if that, of wandering through the Sith complex with his father, but having five days of separation between that event and now had only hardened the decision. The question was just if it was better to wait to let events bring them back together, or if he should simply try and find his father and hand himself over as soon as he had his lightsaber built, however he'd manage that part.

That, Luke wasn't sure about, yet.

Artoo's sudden whistle startled him and he looked up, catching sight of a very familiar saucer-shaped freighter flying in.

"Looks like they're here, Artoo. Thanks for waking me up," he said and patted Artoo's dome, straightening up while he tracked the ship until he had the general area the docking bay they'd landed in was in, not bothering to wait for Leia to comm him with the number. 

He'd just walk straight there, it wouldn't take long. He might not have been in Mos Eisley more than once, and the layout might be nothing better than a profogg town, but he didn't need to know any of it. He was following the vague direction he'd seen the _Falcon_ descend in, and Leia's brightness in the Force.

His _sister's_ brightness in the Force.

Pausing at the door into the docking bay, Luke smiled.

He wished they'd known earlier, regardless of the possible danger of the Emperor finding out. So far, neither of them had been nowhere _near_ the Emperor, and while he might end up such sooner or later given what he hoped to do for his father, that wasn't a given. 

What if they'd known from the start? What if Ben had told him when he told him about his father..? But at least he knew now, and he was going to tell her... _that_ at least. 

That they were twins. As for the other things... Such as that Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader... that could wait. She shouldn't have to deal with that yet. He'd only started to deal with it recently himself, though the adventure with his father on the moon really had helped in that regard. Not that anyone who knew about their relationship approved of his attitude, and Leia would hardly either...

Shaking himself off, he palmed the door open and let Artoo go first, stifling a grin while watching the astromech wobble down the stairs, then followed after him. Ducking around the corner of the entrance, Luke looked up towards the cockpit and saw Chewbacca's shadow as he stood up from the co-pilot's chair. With a grin, Luke raised a hand and waved, just barely catching the shifting shape of the great arm waving back, though he didn't see Chewie leaving the cockpit since he got distracted by the ramp lowering.

Smile widening, he barely heard Artoo's cheery chirp as he ran forward, knowing exactly who it was - Lando was behind her, up in the shadow of the top of the ramp - and caught Leia up in an embrace the second he was close enough to pull her in.

"Leia!" Twirling her around, mostly to draw that reluctant laughter out of her since it was so rare, he took the swat she gave him with good grace and nodded to Chewie as he came down the ramp as well, Artoo going the opposite way up to meet Threepio.

"Luke! You know, if you'd actually stayed with the Fleet, we could've said hello _there_ ," Leia said, frowning up at him, her hand on his arm giving a gentle squeeze and he was suddenly, just _really struck_ by what she was to him. All of it, old and new, and new revelations all. It sat warmly in the pit of his stomach in a way that had nothing to do with the suns beating down. 

"Are you all right?"

He nodded, gaze flickering to Chewie when he echoed Leia's question with a groaning rumble.

"I _was_ going to stay after the briefing, but I was meditating while finishing repairs on the X-wing and..." pausing, he shifted on his feet a little. Still felt somewhat embarrassed and uncertain about saying things like this out loud, but he knew it was true. "We have a chance to save Han soon, as long as we all are here. That's why I left immediately and told you to come meet me here."

"Fett's finally getting his sorry behind here?" Lando said as he wove around an arguing Threepio and Artoo and came down the ramp, all non-droids currently in the area studiously ignoring Threepio's offended exclamations and commentary of how things had been going so far as he caught Artoo up. Lando sighed a little as he joined the other three, reflexively and not with a little annoyance brushing off the dusting of sand his clothes had already acquired.

Tatooine was, really, not a planet for a man like Lando Calrissian.

"Seems like it, though like I said, I don't have any exact time-frame... just an approximate 'somewhere around the next few days'," Luke said with a shrug, "we're going to want to have someone keep an eye on the spaceport at all times. I've found a good spot; we can take turns." Luke didn't look down at Leia as he spoke, but he was rather worried about her sitting a shift alone. 

Technically, all of them would be in danger sitting out there for hours alone, even with mandatory check-ins, but given Mos Eisley's relative closeness to Jabba's palace, Leia was in a shade _further_ danger.

Not in the sense that she was the only one who would be threatened with potential slavery; just the particular flavour of it.

But he also didn't want to be the one to say anything---

Chewie growled through a comment how whoever sat watch should at least have Artoo with them, and Luke breathed out quietly, meeting Chewie's knowing glance with a dry half-twist to his lips. Leia frowned, but said nothing, and Lando shrugged an easy assent. If he understood _why_ Chewie had made that demand, he didn't say anything.

"If you show me the spot, Luke, I'll take first watch," Lando said while he started and then aborted his second attempt to brush himself off, and Luke chuckled at the sight.

"All right. Artoo, come on!" turning around, he immediately turned back and reached out, laying a hand on Leia's shoulder, "when I come back I... need to talk to you."

Leia met his gaze with a look that turned from easy curiosity to darkening concern as she caught onto his worry, and reached out herself to squeeze his arm.

"Luke, what is it?"

He could _feel_ all the things she was going to ask - or might have, if they hadn't been out in public and she wasn't _Leia_ , because she didn't ask such things when it was clearly personal. So he just shook his head and she nodded, crossing her arms and stared after them as he, Artoo, and Lando left the docking bay.

Luke felt weirdly grateful for the squeeze Lando gave his elbow before they had to walk one after the other up the stairs out of the docking bay. The man didn't ask any questions, but he was... there. Luke smiled and, after Artoo had waddled his way back up the stairs, quietly muttering in binary, he nodded down the street.

"This way. It should be pretty safe."

It took half an hour to not just lead Lando through the streets and alleyways to the spot he'd found, at some point crossing a few buildings via their roofs. He also had to float Artoo over the spots that required jumping or straight out climbing over various obstacles or buildings. But the half-weathered alcove in the lee of a tiered dome at the edge of the spaceport proper gave a good view of the whole area - and less chance to be sneaked up on.

The only thing that wasn't ideal was the fact that it would take the same time to get down as it'd take to get up here, and Luke would have to go with when they wanted Artoo down.

But it was better than the alternatives, and Artoo had, if with a bit of annoyed beeping, agreed to it. Luke left the two of them there and wandered back to the streets, keeping his attention spread out - but couldn't pick up anything out of the ordinary, which was a relief.

Trying - and knowing it was rather useless - to at least _minimise_ the amount of sand he'd bring back into the _Falcon_ , Luke stopped at the bottom of the ramp and brushed himself off before he walked inside, smiling at Threepio's bright exclamation when he passed the droid in the main hold.

"Oh, Master Luke! It's so great to see you again!"

"You too, Threepio. Do you know where Leia is?" He didn't actually need to ask - he could feel her bright fierceness and could, with barely a twitch of concentration, pinpoint her location. Something, he knew, he was also able to do when it came to his father, especially after their... ahem, excursion a few days ago.

Not _now_ of course; Vader was too far away for that, but it wouldn't require much for him to reach along that darkly glowing connection and---

"Princess Leia is in the cockpit, Master Luke," Threepio said, sounding pleased at having been asked which was the reason he'd asked Threepio at all. Smiling at the droid, Luke shook his head, almost glad Threepio had disrupted his thoughts. On some level he wanted - needed - to talk to his father again, but now he wasn't sure _how_.

So much had happened in what had been barely half a day, so much revealed and talked about and at the same time hardly anything at all... He needed to think about it. At the same time, there really wasn't any decision to take that he hadn't already taken.

"Thanks, Threepio," Luke said and veered down that way, trailing a hand along the wall and listening to the noises - Chewie working on something deeper inside the _Falcon_ , idle workings thrumming through the ship, Threepio settling down in the main hold behind him and...

"Hey," he murmured as he walked into the cockpit, watching Leia shift restlessly in the pilot's chair and feeling a pressure on his heart. Soon. They'd set this right soon and Leia wouldn't have to be sad over _this too_.

"Hey. Sit down," Leia said quietly, immediately straightening up from her curled up position and waving a hand at the large co-pilot's chair. Luke smiled lopsidedly, made sure the door to the cockpit closed and locked behind him, and sat down. Stretching out and relaxing for the first time since... frowning into the darkness of the arm he'd thrown over his eyes, Luke tried to think. When had he last at least _tried_ to relax like this?

Before the mission that got him stuck on the moon? 

No, that didn't seem right.

Earlier?

... A flash of a memory of sitting curled up in a corner of his quarters, Leia squeezed in beside him, arm around his shoulders and him resting his head on her shoulder... That had been two weeks after Bespin. That might be it.

There was a light touch on the hand he didn't have tossed over his face, and he turned it over so they could lace their hands together. Luke couldn't help but smiling into the shadow of his arm; once this would have been confusing, the simpleness of this even while he was, so confusedly, drawn to her. That had gone away before Hoth, then made a brief reappearance when she'd kissed him, and then smoothed out again. Now he knew where the connection had _come from_...

"Luke---"

"We'll---"

Blinking, he dropped his arm to met Leia's startled brown eyes, and then they both laughed; quietly and with a sort of restraint that wouldn't have been there a year or two ago, but laughter still.

"You go first," Leia said, grinning at him, and Luke was relieved to see there was genuine lightness brightening her eyes, and didn't argue.

"We'll get him, Leia. I _swear_. We'll get him _now_ and not in another half a year and definitely not _never_. You'll get him back," Luke said fiercely, squeezing their joined hands and poured all the conviction he felt into the words, because he was as determined about this as he was about his father.

Both for Han himself, because why wouldn't he want to rescue someone who was like a brother to him, and for Leia. It was obvious that the years (he supposed) of tension had ballooned out into something deeper while he'd been on Dagobah and Leia (and Han) deserved all the happiness she could have.

Leia took a breath and nodded.

"I know. We _will_ " Another decisive nod as she squeezed his hand back, and then her expression firmed up. Luke was pretty sure he knew what was coming. "Did you actually give a full report of what happened after the ion shot forced you to land on the moon, Luke?"

Leia's eyes were narrowed, and while she hadn't let go of his hand, it was currently being used more as a chain than easy reassurance and touch. Luke shifted in his seat, opened his mouth to say that yes, he had, then immediately knew that Leia would _know_ he was lying if he said that. 

But he couldn't even explain the whole of it, could he? If he did, even if she'd understand, she'd end up having to deal with more than she should have to at the moment.

Especially if he was going through with what he'd planned on going through with.

"Erm," straightening up, he smiled awkwardly at her, "not... exactly. The slavers recognised me while I was helping the slaves... Guess they contacted Vader because I'd just about gotten away and was about to leave when the _Executor_ dropped in. I got away in time, though."

She frowned at him, tapping the armrest with her other hand and then sighed.

"Oh, Luke. You're all right? And of course you couldn't have stayed with the X-wing until the effects had worn off." There was no accusation or frustration in those words, just acceptance and understanding. Probably not as much understanding that there might have been if he'd ever gotten around to telling her about his family's past, but he'd do that... later.

She should know about it, because it was her family's past too, but that could come a little later.

So he nodded and shifted around in the seat to face her, his free hand falling to his pocket and the datacard he had there. He really had no idea how to add his knowledge of who their mother was to the rest, unless he was going to say Yoda had revealed her name and he'd found the information, but... well, he'd wanted to make sure he'd _brought it_ at least. The datapad with the original file was in his X-wing.

"I am. He didn't get me," Luke said, and that was complete truth since his father had let him go, "And I couldn't have, no," he said, trying not to let his nervousness through, but with the way Leia squeezed his hand an arched an eyebrow, he'd probably failed.

"What is it? You can tell me, Luke."

"I know." And he knew he could, but not... everything. Not yet. Taking a breath and letting it out slowly, he caught Leia's gaze. "I know this is going to sound weird but... do you remember when you mentioned being adopted?"

"... yes," Leia said, frowning and searching his face, but compared to some other times when she'd find what she was looking for, this time her frown only deepened, "I do. We somehow ended up talking about family, and you asked me what having parents was like, compared to an aunt and uncle."

Luke smiled at the memory despite the low-grade anxiety crawling in the pit of his stomach; 'somehow' was right, because he couldn't remember how they'd gotten to that point, and then one thing had led to another and Leia had mentioned her parents were her adopted parents, but she saw and thought of them as nothing else but her mother and father.

Which was, honestly, partly why he was hesitating about revealing everything about their family for now; she had parents she loved and claimed fully, and the living one was... he decided not to finish that thought.

"Exactly. And then _both_ of us said we'd have---"

"Liked to have siblings, yes. I remember." Leia was smiling now as well, but then she shook her head, arching an eyebrow at him. "Why are we talking about this, Luke?"

"Because..." he paused, took a breath to center himself, drawing the Force close; it was bright and warm and, even here, on this planet that was mostly wasteland, pulsing with life. He could also, he realised now, sitting this close even when Leia didn't know, see the thread between them, much like the one between himself and his father. "Because after I left the pirates' moon I went to the the Jedi Master I trained with to ask a few questions, and he revealed something that made a lot of sense."

Opening his eyes, he looked at Leia and smiled, feeling all that earlier anxiety drain away even in the face of her still frowning at him. They were also still holding hands and it felt so natural he didn't understand why they hadn't figured it out on their own.

"He said I had a sister."

Leia blinked. Stared for a silent moment and then smiled at him, but he could tell she hadn't figured it out. Not _quite_ yet.

"That's great, Luke. Did he say who it was so you can find her?"

"He didn't need to," Luke had to bite his lip not to chuckle, tugging on their joined hands, "I already knew who it was, when he said that. It's quite obvious in hindsight, isn't it?"

"... obvious?" Leia frowned, but even as she opened her mouth to ask, she closed it again, brown eyes going distant, "I... yes." Her gaze focused again, and suddenly she was crushing his hand, reaching out with her other one and he caught that one as well.

"I think... I always knew that," having said that, however, she looked at him with a frown, pursing her lips, "but that doesn't make any sense, no matter how obvious it seems _now_. Neither of us could've known something like that, and yet..."

"You have the same power I do, Leia. That's how you know. It's probably why you heard me call for you, too," Luke said, standing up and pulling at their joined hands and the moment Leia had put a foot down on the floor, the transition to a hug was all too easy.

"You're _sure_?" Leia sounded hesitant and there was a frown in her voice even as it was mostly muffled by her resting her face into his shoulder. Luke opened his mouth to reply and then, as a thought occurred to him, closed it again. There was another way to show her he was sure. Show her _she_ was sure.

Closing his eyes, he reached out for the Force, feeling again the bright, pulsing life around him and then turned his attention to Leia. Leia, who was right here in his arms, but also right there in the Force - in his mind, close and yet lightyears distant from his connection to his (their) father. 

Slowly, he reached for the impression of her; fierce blue, muted only due to a lack of training, like he'd probably been. Wondered briefly what her impression of him was, like this, and then brushed against that blueness.

Leia jerked, raising her head to stare narrowly up at him. He only knew that because he could feel the heat of the glare, and he let a tiny smile twitch across his lips.

"Luke..." Quiet, warningly.

He brushed against her again, a question to be let in, a call for her to reach out. An invitation.

_Like this, see?_

"I---" Leia paused, and he could _feel_ her frown, but she'd closed her eyes and as the moment lengthened, the blue flickered, stretched...

_Oh._

Whoever of them actually said it didn't matter; it was probably both of them, as one. 

Because they _were_. 

Not-memories of quiet darkness, of safety and _together_ bubbled up from somewhere deep down, along paths that had been forgotten for _almost_ as long as they'd been alive. Remembering being three, five, _seven_ , and waking from dreams of staring at impossibly tall, white-capped mountains with only one sun in the sky, waking from dreams where the beach went on forever, stretched into dunes, turned into salt flats.

The sky was intensely blue, achingly so, but not the _right_ sort of blue.

The trees, the grass, so many shades of green and _none_ of them the right one.

They separated with a gasp, coming into the darkening cockpit of the _Falcon_ sitting in a tangle on the floor, wet spots on their shoulders and streaks on their cheeks already drying in the hot, dry air even the _Falcon's_ air filter system couldn't alleviate. They stared at each other, both of them surprised, if for slightly different reasons.

"I am _not_ getting trained. Not yet," Leia said, then looked startled she's even spoken. It was so fierce Luke burst out into quiet chuckles. Leia huffed and dried off the last crusty not-really-moisture on her cheeks with the heels of her hands and reflexively patted a hand over the braids wrapped around and pinned to her head.

"Whenever you feel ready for it... I'm not--- I mean, I hardly know anything myself, but if we can't find someone else who might have survived, I'll do what I can," Luke said, smiling dryly, trying not to think of the realisation of how _little_ he still knew and what Yoda had said would be required for him to count as a Jedi.

Even when he hardly knew anything.

"Far more than _me_ ," Leia said with a shake of her head, but she didn't sound displeased by this, merely pursed her lips and reached out, tangling their hands together again, "so, _brother_... do you have any _other_ revelations you want to throw at me?"

Even as he met her smile with one of his own at the use of that word, he felt a stab of guilt. Yes. He did. But _not yet_. Instead he reached to his pocket and pulled out the datacard.

"What do you... remember of our mother?" then, aware of how she thought of the Organas and feeling awkward, quickly added, "our _biological_ mother, I mean, I know you---"

"It's okay, Luke," she shook her head and smiled dryly, patting the hand she had trapped before she frowned, gaze going soft again, "nothing much... feelings, mostly." Leia looked up at him, a frown marring her forehead, and he could feel her reach and then, slowly... _sadness tinged with pain, care, fierce love and burning (broken) determination_.

They both blinked and shuddered at the same time.

"Why?" She was very determinedly not looking at the datacard, focusing on him and allowing the illusion that he wasn't holding onto it tightly, that it was even there at all. It sort of helped ease the awkwardness away.

"I don't remember anything," he wished he did, but even as he'd tried to find even a scrap of memory, there'd been nothing. Shrugging, Luke took a breath and continued, "But I... found out a few things recently. Artoo apparently belonged to her, and he finally told me. When you want to..." trailing off, he handed her the datacard, and she took it, gingerly. Brushed her fingertips along the edges and sighed.

"Later. I think I need a nap," looking up, Leia eyed him, "I think we _both_ do."

He couldn't really argue against that, feeling wrung out from the last... week, now, more or less, and also guilty and exhausted and still so very happy. He reached for her without thinking, and he saw the curve of her smile before she led the way out of the cockpit, their hands brushing together just like their minds did.

***  
A nap turned into proper sleep, Luke realised as he woke up rested but disoriented which probably had to do with the fact that the last time he was in here, he'd just been picked up from under Cloud City--- Shaking his head, he looked up to Lando standing in the doorway to the bunkroom with Threepio behind his back.

"Chewie just spotted the _Slave I_ inbound. I reckon we have twenty minutes. You up to this?" Lando glanced between them, Leia was already on her feet and straightening what little hair had escaped from her braids, so Luke grimaced but nodded. He'd thought they would have a little more time to _plan_ , but obviously that wasn't to be.

No matter.

"Let's go," he said as he rolled out of the bunk, catching Leia's hand in a brief squeeze and sending a brief pulse of love along their newly re-established connection. She didn't smile, but she squeezed his hand back and then picked up her blaster. Picking up his own blaster, he paused and stared at it for a moment. He missed his lightsaber. He was also once again reminded he still needed to make one... but he didn't know how, yet.

He hoped he could rectify that.

Holstering the blaster, he was suddenly keenly reminded of the _last_ lightsaber he'd held...

 _Father?_ he reached out before he thought about it, touching the _other_ , darker thread that led somewhere else, full of warm, frozen flames. 

The response was an immediate, wordless demand for his status - worry, as strange and very much not as that was to consider - and Luke wondered if he hadn't disturbed Vader in meditation, since the response was at once strong but sort of... diffuse.

Suddenly embarrassed that he'd reached out like this, especially since he still didn't know what to _say_ and wondering if this really was the way to go about this, regardless of his determination of what to do about, for, his father, Luke sent an equally wordless burst of reassurance and then abruptly withdrew.

"Luke?" Leia's voice drifted in from further away, and Luke shook his head sharply.

"Coming!"


	2. Dealing With Debts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to deal with Boba Fett and Jabba the Hutt... 
> 
> So how _do_ you assault a Hutt crime lord's well-defended palace when there's only five of you?

Pre-dawn coloured Tatooine's sky not iron, but reflected gold from the suns still hidden beneath the horizon, making even the shadows faintly gilded. A small flock of skettos shot through the air above them as the small group settled outside the docking bay, Chewie's growl up through the comlink that he was ready more a vibration than an actual sound.

"So, how are we doing this?" Lando muttered, and Luke was briefly surprised he'd gotten there before Leia. She squeezed his shoulder where she stood beside him, and Luke flashed her a smile, then tilted his head.

"I'm going to go in there and ask him to hand Han over. We'll take it from there." He didn't think Fett would do that, even if they offered to pay; not from greed, just from a sense of business ethic of fulfilling his contracts.

"Luke! You know that won't work!" she hissed in his ear, hand tightening on his shoulder and her grip changing slightly to hold him back. He shrugged and managed ducked out of her grip, catching her hand instead.

"Just be ready to follow me in. A minute or so after should be fine, I think. And let's at least _try_ not to kill him." Then he opened the door and skipped down the stairs, ignoring the sharply-indrawn breath above him that could be heard right before the door slid shut again.

_Luke, come back here!_

He had to bite his lip not to grin, hearing Leia's angry voice ringing in his head. 

_It'll be fine, Leia. Just be ready to follow me._

Maybe he should've waited until _after_ all this to tell her, considering she probably wouldn't like his plan for dealing with Jabba, either... He shook his head and stepped out into the open as the _Slave I_ 's ramp lowered and Fett came down it, pushing the hovering slab Han was still contained in.

"Skywalker." Fett walked halfway across the open space between the _Slave I_ and the entrance before he stopped, hands on his blaster rifle. Luke matched him, stopping a few steps away... but didn't make a move for his blaster in its holster at all.

"Fett," Luke said, nodding. The first time he was _properly_ meeting the bounty hunter, because he didn't think previous meetings counted, exactly... His gaze fell on the hovering carbonite block, and Luke felt a stab of guilt. That was his fault. Sure, his father had come up with the plan, had gone through with the plan, but Luke was the reason it'd happened. 

Letting out a mental sigh, he focused back on Fett.

"We can pay you what Jabba would pay for him. You get your credits, we get our friend back," Luke said as Leia and Lando came down the stairs, stopping just beyond the entrance into the docking bay. Fett tilted his helm, perhaps looking at them before he shifted back to Luke. 

The snort didn't bode well for any peaceful resolution; Luke could feel the building _intent_ coiling around the bounty hunter and breathed in, drawing the Force close.

"I don't renege on contracts, Skywalker."

Expected, really. Bounty hunters who could be convinced to change who they were delivering to usually were seen with some... _reservation_ among their prospective clients. Boba Fett was good enough, had enough of a solid reputation, that he wouldn't do that.

"That's all right," he said quietly, tilting his head, "but we're taking Han either way."

Fett moved, and Luke threw himself down on the ground, Leia and Lando scattering out of the plasma aimed at them and already firing. Above them, a single shot burned through the air and clipped Fett's rocket pack. Luke winced as he rolled up to his feet again; if that thing exploded things would get messy. Not that it wasn't a good idea to try and ground the bounty hunter, though...

Talking of _grounding_ the man; the rocket pack roared to life amid a hail of blaster fire (at least Lando had listened and was firing stun blasts), and Luke frowned, backed up a few steps and then ran forward one, two... leaped, and caught Fett around the middle to Leia's yelled protest.

Feet, and most of the rest of him, dangling in the air, Luke fought with Fett to get the blaster rifle away from himself. Their jerky struggle weaving through the air sent the shots wild and spattering into the ground below, creating dribbles of glass in the sand. 

From where he was, Luke wasn't sure what he'd planned to do with this.

"Luke! Get down from there!"

He was honestly not sure whether Leia was yelling at him because she was worried or because he was in the way. Maybe both.

Probably both.

"I'd listen to her if I were you, Skywalker," Fett growled and kicked him - or would have, if Luke hadn't twisted aside, the heavy boot still smacking into his side, though more of a glancing blow than a straight on hit, thankfully. A second later and Fett jerked from one of Chewbacca's shots glancing off his helmet, sending them spiralling through the air and slamming against the _Slave I_ 's hull.

They fell to the ground with a breath-stealing thump, but both of them were already moving. Luke, however, was faster. 

Twisting the blaster rifle out of Fett's hands, he slammed it up into the underside of the bounty hunter's helmet and his partly-protected chin. Fett's grip went slack for a crucial moment and Luke threw himself back, setting the rifle to stun in the same movement. He brought the rifle up at the same time Fett raised his arm, probably about to fire the hook-ended rope Luke vaguely remembered.

He didn't get the chance.

A shot from Chewbacca splashed off the _Slave I_ 's hull right above Fett's head while he tossed himself out of the way of a shot from Lando, and at the same time a shot from Leia burned into his arm. Luke used that moment to fire the stolen blaster rifle and Fett didn't have the time to avoid the stun bolt, crumpling to the ground in his ship's shadow.

Finger on the trigger for another few tense seconds, Luke let out a breath while Leia marched past him and, before he could react, disappeared inside the _Slave I_. Blinking at the shadowed entrance at the top of the ramp, Luke shook his head and glanced over to the still-hovering block of carbonite, where Lando was already kneeling and Chewie came up beside it as well, having jumped down from his perch.

"Han still okay?" Luke shifted his stance so he could keep an eye on both his friends as he talked to them and Fett and the still-empty doorway; Leia's presence felt calm and controlled, so she hadn't run into trouble, but what she even was _looking for_ , he didn't understand. Chewie moaned a comment that the carbonite encasing itself was secure while Lando knelt to have a look at the controls.

"Looks okay. He should be fine when he comes out of it. Should I..." he trailed off as Leia came down the ramp, wielding a hypospray like it was a weapon.

"We'll take him back to the _Falcon_ before we get him out, Lando," she said as she knelt down by Fett, and Luke couldn't help it, he tensed and was next to the two of them as fast as he could. The stun bolt shouldn't have worn off yet, but who knew - he wouldn't put it past Fett. Leia glanced up at him and smiled tightly, right before she injected whatever was in the hypospray.

"... Leia?"

"That won't kill him, unless he's taken to mislabelling his drugs. We can't have him come after us or run to Jabba before we're out of here."

Smiling faintly because that had basically been his thought as well, Luke offered her a hand up and she took it with a much more relaxed expression compared to earlier. Chewie swept forward to drag the bounty hunter inside his ship - and locking him inside the cabin, and then, as he growled out with a rather smug air, disabling all the nearby communications.

That would, hopefully, be enough for them to be able to deal with Jabba without having to deal with _Fett_ too. He would obviously not be pleased at all, but there would also not be much of a reason for him to pursue them for Han's bounty if Jabba had been otherwise convinced. Or... otherwise _dealt with_.

Luke, as they carefully walked through Mos Eisley's streets that were slowly filling in the cool but quickly warming morning light, didn't exactly have any illusions about how Jabba would take any attempt at negotiation.

***

Gathered in the _Falcon_ 's main hold to make sure they didn't need to squeeze themselves into the crew quarters, no one moved when Chewie gently eased the block to a stop and deactivated the repulsorlifts that kept it in the air. They'd made an uneven little circle around it, standing a few steps away and stared for a few seconds. Then Leia twitched forward, stopped, and then glanced at Chewie, who was still resting a hand on the edge of the carbonite. Leia hadn't quite dared to touch it yet. The droids were, for once (even Threepio), silent.

Then Chewie grumbled quietly, reached out to pull Leia close and, with the same delicacy, or maybe rather even more, that he used for the _Falcon_ 's controls, started the thawing process.

It was hard to look away from the sudden glow - not quite light, not quite heat - as the frozen alloy started to heat up, sliding off Han's form to pool around the flat expanse surrounding him, but Luke turned away, remembering the blanket Lando had brought out and snagged it up, giving it to Leia. She blinked, just barely looking down at the sudden addition of cloth in her arms, and he more felt than saw her smile, squeezing her shoulder before he stepped back a little.

"Wh-what---" Han was feeling around the rest of the block surrounding him and trying to sit up without probably being fully aware he was doing so, and Chewie reached out and helped him up, a low, quiet rumble in the back of his throat. Leia leaned forward and wrapped the blanket around Han, hand instantly coming to rest on his shoulder as soon as she was done. "Where..."

"The _Falcon_ , Han, we're---" Leia broke off, breathless more than choking, but unable to continue either way, and Chewie rumbled out a question of how Han was feeling in the space left behind Leia's silence. 

Han, meanwhile, shook his head, looking - or maybe rather _trying_ to look, his gaze wasn't quite meeting anyone else's - around, burying one hand in Chewbacca's fur and the other ending up after some patting on Leia's knee.

"Chewie? _Leia_? What's---"

"You're safe, Han," Luke said, watching Han's expression briefly become even more confused, though he refocused on Leia (sort of) when she spoke even as Chewie helped him up out of the carbonite which hadn't vaporized.

"It's hibernation sickness, you'll be fine, soon." There was an edge of uncertainty in her voice, but Luke pushed reassurance at her, wrapping it around her shoulders, and her tense stance eased somewhat as she settled on the gravity couch beside Han. Chewie had hugged him and now Leia could apparently not quite go through with her own decision to let Han have some space; instead she cupped his face in her hands and rested her forehead against his.

Luke decided it was time to remove himself from the equation, and Lando followed him out, muttering something about fixing a proper breakfast since they'd all need one. 

Luke would've followed - or would've _stayed_ , because what he wanted to do was reassure himself of Han's presence, just reach out and touch. But that would have to wait, which he _could_ do. Partly because he could, with minimal focus, reach out and feel the additional presence in the Force, warm but indistinct compared to Leia (anyone was, compared to Leia and his father) that was now nearby. Partly because Leia deserved the time, and...

And he still... Slumping back against the curved corridor and letting a hand fall to Artoo's dome as the little droid twittered concernedly at him, having followed him out, Luke shook his head.

"Master Luke? Are you quite all right?" Threepio's worried inquiry left him chuckling dryly and he shook his head again.

"I'm _fine_ , Threepio." Well, after a fashion. He felt guilty, again, even if it was his father's fault Han had been in the carbonite. It was _still_ \--- A warm, furry, and very large hand landed on his shoulder. Looking up into Chewie's bright eyes, Luke twitched his shoulders into a shrug. 

"I _am_ fine, I promise. Just relieved we got this far without much trouble," he said, flashing small smile up at the Wookiee, who snorted in agreement and commented he was pretty surprised they hadn't come under attack yet. Luke found himself chuckling again, dragging a hand through his hair. 

"Jabba doesn't instantly know everything that goes on. We've got some time, yet."

Probably not a whole lot of it, but a bit of time nonetheless.

Enough time for Han to rest for a few hours, use the shower (which, he commented dryly, he could do even with his eyes closed, so being mostly-blind didn't matter) and sit down for a belated breakfast, even if it was more like lunch at this stage. Luke had barely been able to convince Leia to eat earlier, though none of them had really tasted what they'd been swallowing.

Enough time for all of them to sit around in the various spots they'd claimed in the main hold, tension slowly growing as the silence crept by while Han finally was merely squinting down at his plate and apparently trying to see if he could see well enough to get at the bits that were left over. He couldn't, really.

"You haven't lost your touch," he finally said, blandly, and Lando twitched, neither of them having exchanged any words aside from Lando saying Han could punch him after he'd eaten, as he right then was holding his plate. Glancing between Lando and Han, Luke felt like he was missing something - Leia looked vaguely confused as well, though Chewie was growling in a pleased way.

"So, no punches?" Lando asked, flashing a smile even if Han could still not really see it.

"I dunno, old buddy. I might decide to punch you still, when I can properly see your expression again." The grin could've been nicer, but there was enough softness in his voice to indicate he wasn't serious. Probably. Luke, seated on the other side of Han, muffled his snort behind a hand.

"Be nice, Han." He let out his breath as Han squeezed his shoulder where he had his arm slung over Luke's shoulders. He hadn't exactly intended to end up on Han's other side while he ate, with Leia on Han's right, but the older man had growled something like 'idiot kid' when he'd tried to apologise before Lando showed up with the plate, and then he'd found himself somewhat clumsily pulled along and trapped on the couch.

There were worse places to be, really.

"This is all well and good but when are we _leaving_?" Leia snapped from the other side of Han, frowning at Lando and Chewie, then turned an even narrower look at Han, "if this is some sort of possessiveness issue now that you're _almost_ capable of flying again, Han, I'm going to---"

"We have to deal with Jabba before we leave, Leia," Luke said, interrupting what he was pretty sure was going to be Leia pulling rank on Han, and while that might have been amusing, they were slowly but surely running out of time.

"What?" She stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, and well, he couldn't fault her that. Shrugging, he reached out - not with a hand, but his mind, brushing against her ice-blue again, trying to convey _patience_ at her. Mostly because she wouldn't like what he had to say next. She frowned at him, but settled down back in her seat, since she'd almost half-risen out of it.

"If we leave now, things aren't going to be any different than they were before Jabba set the bounty... arguably, it's going to be worse, because he's probably not going to bother with any sort of 'alive' condition," Luke said, leaning forward a little and looking from face to face; Han looked vaguely disgruntled but grunted, Lando nodded and Chewie let out a growl. Leia still looked more frustrated than anything else.

"We _need_ to deal with Jabba before we leave; see if he'll accept us paying off the bounty, or deal with him after he declines that."

"Which you _know_ he's gonna do, kid. Jabba ain't gonna be interested in _credits_ , now," Han said with another grunt and Luke gave a one-shoulder shrug, even if Han couldn't see that yet.

"So we deal with it," he said again and that was, of course, far harder than he made it sound. Even Leia could pick up on that, an arched eyebrow making an appearance even as she accepted Han attempting to wrap his hand around hers.

"I was under the impression Jabba had a palace full with guards and bounty hunters," she said slowly, not _quite_ sharply enough to cut, but getting there.

"We'd need an army, and I don't think the Alliance's willing to give us that," Lando added, dryly enough Leia only snorted in agreement. Chewie, spotting Luke's faint grin, leaned forward and asked him what he had in mind. Following the black and white squares of the dejarik table with a finger, Luke straightened up and shrugged.

"We don't need to _bring_ an army; what we need is already in the palace. We just need to _arm them_ ," Luke could see, as he spoke, that none of the others, except for Chewie, understood what he meant. Han might have, if he could've seen Chewie's expression; he sure glanced that way and then scowled when he remembered he couldn't see well enough yet.

"What're you even talking 'bout, kid? We don't have the credits to hire Jabba's bounty hunters, and _they_ already come with---" Han cut himself off, twisting around in his seat to waggle the fork at him (Luke stared at it, inexplicably reminded of his father for some reason), if slightly off-center, "you can't mean the _slaves_!?"

" _Slaves_?" Leia snapped, leaning past Han to stare at him, and Lando just _stared_.

"Why not? If we give them the weapons to fight and make sure Jabba or Bib Fortuna don't activate the transmitters, they don't have any reason _not to_ , especially with help." It was a simple plan, yes. And it _did_ rest on trusting the slaves to be willing to fight when they were given the means to, but Luke had a good feeling about this.

"Luke, that's..." Leia trailed off, apparently too struck by what Luke was saying to, for once, come up with something to say. Han, on the other hand, wasn't.

"Crazy! Kid, I understand wanting to help 'em and we do need to do something to get Jabba off my back, but _that_? How are you even planning on getting them weapons? We can't exactly smuggle anything in with us."

"We don't _need to_ ," Luke snapped, then flushed and shook his head - maybe the last week was getting to him again - breathing out as Leia reached across Han to catch his elbow, squeezing, "I can make sure the ones in the throne room get weapons, because the weapons will already _be in there_. We don't have to bring a thing but our own."

Maybe he was getting the need to make sure Jabba would no longer go after Han tangled up with the old, frustrated desire to get rid of the Hutt crime lord in general. And make sure everybody who was suffering under the slug-like alien's weight, farmers, residents and _slaves_ , were all safe. But Luke thought this would work. 

He _wanted_ it to work, but he could, obviously, not do it alone.

"We're going to have to go in there either way, and we don't have the time to try and _infiltrate_. I think this will work," Luke said quietly, standing up and sliding away from both Leia's hand on his elbow and Han's arm over his shoulders. Maybe if they hadn't gotten Han now, they would've had to take the long way in by inserting one of them inside the palace, but that wouldn't work now.

"Okay," Leia said suddenly, frowning up at him when Luke turned to look at her, feeling hope light up, "if you think this will work, I guess it's no worse than any other plan... and this time you thought longer than 'get into the prison block'," she finished with a flash of a teasing grin, leaving Luke to huff and trying not to smile himself.

"Han? Chewie, Lando?" Looking between them, getting an assenting growl out of Chewbacca before he'd even finished saying _Han's_ name; Han was frowning but finally shrugged.

"I guess it's the best we've got. If you're sure, kid."

Luke nodded, couldn't help the smile at the trust Han was giving him. Especially now, considering it was his fault (no matter that it also wasn't) Han had ended up in carbonite. Lando was silent for a few more moments before he sighed, nodding silently.

***

There were a few choices that were better than others when it came to choosing a time to attack a Hutt's stronghold. In the middle of the day were one of the worst and morning was somewhat better but had passed, which was the reason why, even with the risk of one of Jabba's goons noticing the _Slave I_ merely sitting in a docking bay, they waited until evening.

Perhaps really late at night would've been even better - if they were trying to sneak in and assault the place alone. But they did need at least some slaves awake and aware, which meant that making their attack when _everybody_ would be asleep (or nearly so, anyway), wasn't a good idea. Which was why the suns had been down for only a few hours when they approached Jabba's palace, the wind cooling down as it whipped over them in the open landspeeders, the shadows falling behind and underneath blue and purple.

Clambering out of the landspeeders some distance away from the palace rising on its hill, Luke cast a look around the desert for... he wasn't quite sure of the number of times, but followed it up with stretching his senses out this time. There were no clumps of bright life anywhere except where they would be expected to be, however. Their small group and the palace itself.

No Tusken.

"Luke?" Leia touched his shoulder and he turned around to smile down at her while she holstered Han's blaster and Lando tried to make sure Chewbacca's bowcaster was secure but could be easily removed.

"I'm fine. Just checking our surroundings... looks like we're ready," he said as he glanced around to the others, both Han and Chewie looking distinctly _disgruntled_. Even if the binders on their wrists were loose and not locked.

"You couldn't have come up with a _better_ idea, kid?" Han muttered, flexing his hands and almost making the cuffs fall off, which led to some cursing. Chewie chuckled, even if he was definitely uncomfortable with this idea as well.

"It worked the first time, didn't it?" Luke tried not to grin and shrugged, looking past them towards the palace, "and while they might have let us in with you just _knocking_ , they'd be more likely to expect something being off from that."

"I still can't believe that worked on the Death Star," Leia said, shaking her head, but she grinned up at Han and slipped up beside him with a not-really-comforting pat to his arm. Han huffed, but Luke tuned it out, because Leia's comment had brought up something he'd tried very hard not to think about since he first realised he had killed over a million people on the Death Star.

No one had found it odd that they were leading a Wookiee around in binders. No one had found the presence of a non-Human, on an imperial station, in binders, _strange_. 

Which meant that there'd been Wookiees on the Death Star. Probably slave labour which hadn't yet been transferred off after the station was finished. The realisation that he'd probably killed not just military and the contracted civilians who would be present to keep a place of that size running, but _slaves_ as well, who couldn't have chosen to be there or not, had been a particularly hard blow.

Chewbacca was suddenly by his shoulder, laying a furry hand there and making a low sound in the back of his throat. Luke shrugged and patted Chewie's arm, straightening up.

"Looks like we're ready. Remember to try and get to cover as soon as you can." He glanced between them, from Chewie and Han to Lando, who had a helmet with a guard covering most of his face, and down to Leia in a full getup with a covering helmet. It didn't really disguise her much, but the point was mostly to not let everybody know that one of the Empire's most wanted was standing in their midst. 

"The guards will probably stop fighting as soon as they realise Jabba's dead, the bounty hunters probably soon after... and they'll start looting instead. We just have to make sure to get to Jabba as soon as possible, if he doesn't go for us paying Han's bounty instead."

Luke was well-aware he wouldn't, and Han's snort told him what he thought about that. But, no matter how much he actually wanted to get rid of the Hutt, if they could get in and out of there without having to fight, that _was_ better.

"All right, let's go," he muttered and pulled the hood of the cloak he'd picked up over his head, falling in last in the line, with Leia at the front leading Han along, and Lando beside Chewie. Tension slowly wound itself tighter as they walked up the hill towards the palace, and when they stopped at the door and the sentry eye popped out, Luke let his next breath out slowly.

"We're here for the bounty on Captain Solo," Leia snapped, her voice only _barely_ distorted by the helmet's vocoder - they hadn't had the time to adjust it. As the sentry eye looked between them, Luke took an equally slow breath in, eyes closed, and reached for the Force. It swirled in slow brightness around him, incongruously _thick_ in such a wasteland, but still left individual lives (all the beings in the palace, the five of them, the herd of banthas on the other side of the hill, other creatures spread out nearby) like bright tongues in relative darkness.

Drew in the Force around him and let it soothe his nerves as the door slowly and awkwardly rose up from the ground. He wished Artoo was with them, because the astromech would undoubtedly have been an asset, but it'd deemed better (safer) that both droids keep watch of the _Falcon_ in case anyone tried anything on it.

The inside was only barely lit, leaving them in warm, muffling shadows when the door slid closed behind them. Guards surrounded them almost immediately, and despite his attempt at sharing his calm, the rest of the group tensed. Something that didn't get any better the deeper they walked, with a dark sense of unease lingering in the air and the smooth, polished floors gritty with sand and long-dried... substances, the walls spotty.

Leia and Lando both jerked at the sight of one of the spider droids with their brain jars, though Leia straightened up right after and determinedly stomped onwards, masking her reaction by pulling on Han's arm a little more harshly than what was necessary.

"Hey, I'm walking, I'm _walking_ \---"

"Shut up, Solo," Leia growled, jabbing his side with the blaster he held, and Luke bit his lip in a completely different amusement from the snorting of the Gammorreans. Amusement which quickly dried up into brief snorted squeals when Bib Fortuna came out of the shadows, trailing music behind him. They still couldn't see down into the throne room, but they could now _hear it_ , and Leia reluctantly leaned closer to the unpleasantly pale Twi'lek when he didn't deign to raise his voice.

"His Excellency Jabba is busy, but I can---"

"I deal with Jabba only," Leia said, still in Basic compared to Fortuna's Huttese and her voice low. The helmet's vocoder lent a rasping edge which only enhanced the quiet deadliness in those words, and Luke wondered if he or Lando should've led this part of the delegation, or--- The guards shifting closer pulled his attention away from Leia and Fortuna, and he glanced between them, pushing the Force _out_ against them.

They staggered back, stumbling against the walls, and even if they struggled, couldn't move.

He was half tempted to keep them in place by _strangling_ them, but kept the dark desire at bay and simply focused on keeping them in place and _not_ looking at Bib Fortuna as he glanced around, noticing the absence of the guards...

"As... you wish. This way," he finally grumbled, and while Luke still wasn't sure whether Leia understood exactly what he'd said or not, she nodded sharply and followed along. It wouldn't be hard to figure out what the Twi'lek had said, either way, considering he was walking down the corridor.

Both Leia and Han almost walked right into the wind chime that hung in the final archway, and Luke, despite the situation, smiled briefly. 

Wondered how many times Han had walked into that thing, and yet _kept doing it_ , despite knowing it was there. Chewie wove around it, and Luke ducked, walking past Lando and Chewie to come up beside Leia as they walked the length of the throne room and crowded onto the grating on the floor in front of the dais, forcing a green Twi'lek to stop dancing and withdraw.

Jabba roared, and Luke didn't even bother listening - not yet, anyway, even if he knew exactly what Jabba was saying - rather he glanced around the throne room, though didn't turn around to get a look behind him. He caught the gaze of the green Twi'lek, could feel her tension; angry, scared, and frustrated.

Not tired or beaten. She would be key.

He caught sight of a few others as well - a Rodian girl who was _definitely_ young enough it turned his stomach, scared, very scared, but there was a tension there... A Human male his own age, head bowed and shoulders drooping; not a drop of anything but muted acceptance in him, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Another four female Twi'leks of varying ages... 

There were more slaves in this room, as packed as it was, but Luke didn't trust he'd be able to reach them all, so these would have to do to start with.

He came back to hear Leia draw breath to speak and quickly stepped forward, right in front of her and forcing Jabba to turn those huge, bulbous eyes on _him_. He didn't like that, Luke could see; he'd been able to tell Leia was a woman, and wanted to see more of her. Gritting his teeth, Luke pushed the implications of that away and relaxed... if with some difficulty.

"We're not here to hand Captain Solo or Chewbacca over, Great One. We are, however, willing to pay the same amount of credits Captain Solo's bounty is. In exchange, Your Excellency, you withdraw it and let us all leave." Short, to the point and... leaving Jabba laughing, after a moment of silent staring. The rest of the throne room followed suit, but Luke just folded his hands together in front of him and waited.

Waited, and reached out in a way no one else in here except Leia would've been able to follow, eyes slipping half closed as he again noted the locations of his chosen slaves and who they were closest to, plus the weapons they carried.

"No," Jabba finally said, burbling over the Huttese word, and his yellow eyes were glinting sharply in the muted light. The band had stopped playing by now. "The credits are insignificant. Solo has crossed me for the last time, and _you_..."

Those huge eyes narrowed, going from Luke, to Lando, Chewbacca, Han and then _tried_ to catch sight of Leia, but she had - however reluctantly from the slight pinch she'd figured out how to give him over their bond - remained right behind Luke.

"I am a generous Hutt; if you leave the girl you might be spared."

Chewie roared and Han instantly bristled - Leia did as well, but Luke just took another small step forward and shook his head, flexing his hands. 

This was it. He could _feel it_.

"You should bargain, Jabba. You'll regret it if you don't," he said slowly, making sure to meet the Hutt's stare and this time speaking in Huttese. They stared at each other, the moment stretching, and Luke could hear the minute shifting of guards and bounty hunters and whatever other criminals there was in here. Shifting forward, shifting towards weapons...

Jabba laughed.

"Foolish _boy_."

He lashed his hand out towards the hookah, but Luke didn't pay attention to that; instead he reached for his blaster and threw it at the same time as he reached for six other weapons around the room (five blasters, one electrostaff) with the Force and _yanked_.

The floor underneath his feet disappeared just as his blaster fell into the Twi'lek dancer's hands. Her eyes, he saw in that quick flash before stone surrounded him, were huge.

_LUKE!_


	3. Weapons For Those With None

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oola has a blaster and uses it; Luke is faced with a rancor and has no weapons, but reaches out to his father for advice. Jabba's palace falls when those who have gone weaponless gets some weapons, with a bit of help.

Oola had been fighting from the moment she'd been brought before Jabba. Even when she seemingly gave in, when she danced and bent and leaned in, she was fighting. But it was hard to fight without any other weapon than your willpower and your body. She hadn't touched anything that could be considered an actual weapon in _years_.

As such, it took a moment for the weight in her hand to go from pressure, form, function and register as _blaster_.

The throne room was, in that moment, silent and still.

Blaster.

Weapon.

She... had a...

Oola twisted around, one hand clawing at the mounds of flesh where she was pressed up against the Hutt for leverage and she caught that disgusting, wide gaze of Jabba's. Wet, yellow eyes stared down at her and she snarled, aiming the blaster. 

Behind her, that horrid little creature shriek-cackled, the noise piercing even through the sudden roar that exploded in the throne room, and launched itself at her.

She didn't care, even as dirty, sharp claws and teeth sunk into her lekku and her skull, biting, tearing, trying to distract her. 

Oola bared her teeth, made sure Jabba was _looking_ , and fired.

Fired, and fired and fired and there was something wet and rancid, sweet-smelling running down the dry mounds of flesh, sliding over her thighs and dribbling along her side, but she didn't care. She fired again, three more times, even as the heat of blaster bolts from across the room brushed past the tips of her lekku and she saw the furry paw that came for her.

She would die now.

She didn't care.

Jabba was dead, she had _killed him_ and that was all she wanted to do---

Salacious Crumb went flying with a wet noise of claws and teeth being ripped out of her flesh, and his shriek ended in a sharp, bone-breaking crack as he met the wall. That same furry paw (the Wookiee that had come with the man who'd thrown her his blaster, she realised) closed around her arm and pulled her behind the throne and Jabba's giant corpse.

She met the floor with a gasp, head spinning, hands shaking, and suddenly the noise of the throne room in battle was loud in her ears, pressed in and she needed---

"Can you fight?" the slightly distorted voice of the woman in the covering helmet asked her, her hand gentle but firm on her shoulder and she drew in a shuddering breath and looked around the throne room past Jabba's corpse. 

The band was fleeing, though Sy Snootles was crawling away, not running, and half the Gamorrean guards seemed confused as to whether they were supposed to fight the intruders that had now ensconced themselves behind the throne, the six slaves who were working themselves towards said throne, or the bounty hunters and criminals who were firing at the intruders and the guards in equal measure (even at each other) even as they tried to grab things and leave.

Oola laughed, her voice wavering, and shook her head.

"Yes. Yes, I _will_." Whether she _could_ or not wasn't a question here; she _would_. She looked away from the scene in time to see the Majordomo pawing for something in his robes, and her breath caught in his throat. 

No, no, no. She wouldn't... he couldn't be allowed to get to the control rod for the transmitters... not _now_!

"Fortuna!" she yelled, pointing and raising her blaster at the same time, but she wasn't needed; not even the two Human men who were with the woman beside her and the Wookiee was needed. Because little Nodila, sweet, scared little Nodila, who'd been here for almost a year already, her long green fingers wrapped around an electrostraff and her snout quivering in rage, rammed said staff into Fortuna's back, sending him to the floor in a flurry of twitching limbs and sending the rod skittering away.

A second later and Hannara, someone Oola had never seen be anything other but a sad-eyed, broken-voiced boy who'd been here longer than she had (eight years, he'd told her), stepped around the smoking corpse of the Gamorrean guard he'd just shot, fired the blaster again, two times, burning through Fortuna's head and back. 

His eyes burned and his hands shook, but the aim had been true.

"Come behind here!" the dark-skinned Human yelled at them while the pale-skinned one covered them, his hand slightly shaky but his shots surprisingly accurate, and they scrambled to obey. Hannara yanked the slight Rodian girl out of the way of a blaster shot, taking it himself - but thankfully it only skirted along his back. 

Oola, feeling a burning sensation bubbling up from her stomach and up into her mouth, in her eyes and along all the way to the tips of her lekku, clutched her blaster and fired into the heaving crowd, only caring that she didn't hit the other slaves in the room.

***  
_Luke!_ Leia's call rang in his head without an echo as he slid down the chute - the rock too polished to give any purchase, the angle too steep to be able to jump back up when he actually landed - a second later and he met the sandy floor, the impact jarring through him. Stumbling, he kept his balance and threw off the cloak.

Leia didn't call again, but her worry pierced his thoughts and made it hard to look around the bone-littered room and actually _see_ what was there.

_I'm all right, it's okay. Focus on the throne room and I'll meet you when I can! Or you can come get me,_ Luke said, pushing as much soothing reassurance as he could across to her, and kept his assessment of his current situation firmly away from the reaching blue presence until Leia was distracted and the contact dropped back into the dimly glowing connection that now would always be there.

Straightening up, Luke eyed the space around him more grimly, and, more particularly, the huge blast door on the other side. He was pretty sure he knew what was behind there, and even just a blaster would've been really helpful right about now. Because you didn't live on Tatooine and _not_ know of the rumours about Jabba's pet rancor.

As the seconds stretched and the door remained shut, though, while the noise in the throne room above exploded, Luke had a chance to think that maybe Jabba hadn't had the chance to open the second door. Maybe he could just figure out a way out of here at his own leisure. Or, if not, just have to wait for Leia and the oth---

A clang shrieked through the open space and then the blast door started to slide up. Luke froze reflexively before he backed up a step or two, but stopped before he trapped himself against the rock wall.

The rancor... was huge.

And he'd faced huge animals before but at least the space had been larger and he _had_ had a weapon or two.

Stars.

It roared and lumbered towards him, already reaching. Diving between its legs, Luke barely avoided the first swipe, heart suddenly loud in his ears. The thing was surprisingly fast on its feet and whirled around, arm already snapping out, and Luke threw himself away again, stumbling over a rock. It meant he accidentally was ducking under the next swipe, but this couldn't last.

He needed to calm down.

He needed to reach for the Force, because at least then he'd be able to more easily avoid the beast's attempts at goring and grabbing him while he tried to figure something out---

"Sst--!" Pulling his legs in, Luke rolled back, ran around the rancor along the wall, and didn't look down at his left leg. The fire trailing along it was proof enough of the injury done, though luckily it wasn't _deep_. Closing his eyes he breathed evenly as he dodged again, reaching...

Time slowed, a little, and the mess of bright signatures of life above him was deafening; he filtered them out. Next was the rancor, which he needed to keep in his sights. Then there was...

Bright ice-blue, warm and fierce; Leia.

She couldn't help.

A nova of black, icy fire; Father...

He couldn't---

Wait.

Eyes snapping open, Luke jumped, landing on the rancor's shoulder and vaulting over and behind it, the animal bellowing as it managed to scratch itself instead of grabbing him.

_Ah, Father? Do you---_ Luke jumped again, barely clearing the claws snapping after him, _have a moment?_ It was perhaps cowardly of him to think _this_ was much easier than simply reaching out to his father when he didn't know what to talk about. At the same time, though, it felt rather reassuring that he could do it at all, and that whatever connection they'd made on that moon hadn't been lost in the week since.

_I am **not** discussing the contents of the datapad with you, Luke._

Startled at the sharpness of the reply, Luke staggered and the arm coming for him sped up. He barely threw himself back in time, heard cloth ripping and grimaced. 

He'd have to get new clothes. At least that hadn't been his _chest_ , only the cloth covering it. 

Briefly, very briefly, Luke wondered if his father had been obsessing over that datapad since he gave it to him, for _that_ to be his first comment. Considering how he'd reacted to having to talk about Padmé Amidala before, Luke couldn't say he was _surprised_.

Nonetheless, as he swung around one of the rancor's legs and ignored its frustrated bellow, he didn't really need Darth Vader's defensive posturing at the moment.

_I need **advice** , Father! How do I deal with a rancor and not kill it?_ If he had to, he'd kill it, but it wasn't really at fault here, was it?

_A... **what now**?_ There was a stunned silence that shone darkly across the light years over their bond, and Luke almost smiled. Would have, if he wasn't jumping again, clinging to rock and then pushing off from it as the rancor's claws came for him, digging gouges into the stone. _I know you cannot have a lightsaber yet, but surely you have a **blaster**? Son, what is going on?_

_I might have... given it away. To someone who needed it more than I did,_ Luke said, relieved that thought transmitted the words faster than actually talking would, since that made this take less time than it otherwise would. On the other hand, as he felt the sudden, rising bubble of _outrage_ that, he wasn't entirely sure, _wouldn't_ somehow cross all that space between them and wrap him up to keep the claws from mauling him, Luke decided he didn't have time to listen to his father rage. _I really sort of need advice **now** , Father!_

A heartbeat, and he ducked past a swipe to use the arm as a swing, glancing longingly at the door set into the rock - he was sure it would be locked. A second more, and he dove out of the way of a very frustrated _kick_ that the rancor aimed at him, sending a spray of sand in the air. All the while, there was quiet, impotent _frustration_ across the bond.

Then---

_You have enough control of the Force that you could kill it, Luke. There are several---_

_I want to try and **not** kill it, Father,_ Luke abruptly interrupted Vader's short, almost clinical-sounding words, and was briefly fascinated by the difference in his father's mind-voice to the rumbling baritone that came out of the vocoder. Even when sounding clipped and cold, this inner voice was... warm. Not as deep, but certainly still just as commanding.

_Young one---_

There was a brief image that flashed past Luke's thoughts, something about _teeth grinding_ , and he would have laughed if that wouldn't have lost him breath he _needed_ , and he still felt the deceptively light bite of claws only just passing over his head. Gulping down a breath, he rallied to try and make his case again, but the cold fire at the other end softened.

If reluctantly.

_Soothe it,_ his father snapped, reluctant loathing coating every word, but he continued almost immediately, past the confusion Luke was most likely broadcasting, _calm it, mute its desires, bend them away from **you** if you cannot make it ignore its hunger or aggression. Be aware such a state does not last long, son._

Breathing out, Luke smiled.

_Thank you. Give me a moment._ Flipping over the rancor - and almost hitting his head on the ceiling - Luke whirled around the second he landed and before the beast had a chance to do more than turn to face him, Luke reached out to the rancor's mind.

And almost stumbled back, near to losing his concentration and grip on the Force _entirely_ , because it was---

_hungryangryVERYHUNGRYpreyavoidingANGRYhungry_ \---

He shook his head, backed up a step as the rancor swayed, the noise from it not so much a roar as a confused grunt. 

Slid his weight back on one foot and gathered _calm_ , pushing it towards the rancor. Calm and _notfood_. Simple. Keep it simple and easy and _careful_. Luke almost jumped out of his skin when the rancor roared and swiped at him, but it wasn't a hunting swipe; it barely reached within a meter of him, and was slow and hesitant.

He backed up another step, and then one more. The rancor grumbled, snarled, took a step towards him and then looked around slowly, as if searching for something else.

_Calmnotfoodrest_

Another step back and he caught the control panel out of the corner of his vision. The thought almost made him lose control, and the rancor stiffened, whipped its head around to glare at him and took a step forward. He paused it again, and it was still well behind the raised blast door that separated the rancor's den and feeding area.

He just...

Needed to...

Slowly, Luke crouched down, hand half buried in the sand as he patted around; finding a stone. Just as slowly he stood up while keeping his concentration on the rancor. Took a breath and then abruptly withdrew out of its mind and tossed his rock. It cracked into the control panel while the rancor roared again, swayed and caught sight of him.

It lumbered forward, arms stretched out - and then sharply withdrew as the blast door came down, the space too small for it to do more than try to swipe at him through the decreasing gap between door and floor, then yanked its arm back to not have it crushed. 

There was a thundering echo as the rancor threw itself at the closed door, but it merely shuddered and didn't dent.

Closing his eyes Luke relaxed, let his shoulders droop and if this was the time and place, he'd have collapsed down on the sand and just taken a moment. However, this was _not_ the time and place. Straightening up again, he barely had the time to send some wordless reassurance, both to Leia (the response was immediate and equally wordless relief) and his father, before the latter was snapping back.

_Well?_ Impotent anger swelled underneath that word, and Luke, briefly, wondered how his father had gone since finding out about him if _this_ was his response. Though maybe it hadn't always been like this, he conceded as he walked up to the door; maybe it was worse now because they'd actually had a chance to _talk_. It wasn't like he had seen something like this... well, not _exactly_ , when Vader first landed on the Sith moon.

Underneath all that obsessive desire to possess was a surprisingly strong _protectiveness_ , he'd found, and it was just as obvious now as it had been a week ago. Perhaps more, now that Vader could do literally _nothing_ about Luke's current situation or what was going on.

_It's locked behind the door,_ he said, and couldn't help smiling, _now I just need to get out of here._

Which would, Luke realised, be harder than he'd thought. The door slid aside easily, but there was a door of heavy metal bars on the other side, and he couldn't see the controls. With a growl, he hit the bars and then had to shake his hand out - he hadn't even had the foresight to use his right hand.

_What **are** you doing?_ Vader growled, his voice a dark, warm grumble in the back of his mind while he stared into the room beyond, which featured several Gamorrean guards now staring at him, their small, dark eyes wide; a fat, hulking Human man, a slimmer one with a cruel twist to his mouth and... three slaves.

_We got Han back,_ he said while he smiled sharply at the motley group staring at him, ignoring the guards slowly coming closer and instead zeroed in on the nearly skeletally slim and tall man with the mouth. There was a telling rod hanging by his waist. _But Jabba wouldn't have let that go so we went to have a talk with him. He refused to negotiate. I gave my blaster to the Twi'lek he had by his throne... he's dead now, I'm pretty sure._

Really, he _knew_ Jabba was dead, but he wanted to see it for himself. That would be a little later, however. The guards reached the door, but Luke was still focused on the overseer, who'd just attempted to kick the young Togruta by his feet, who'd been staring at Luke. Luckily the child - he couldn't be older than ten, Luke thought - ducked out of the way, and that, really was that.

_Luke..._

Distracted, Luke sent a wave of simple determination at his father before he focused on the room at large again. He didn't have time to do this any other way, so he simply _reached_ , hand open, and swept it sideways. 

The overseer made a noise, staggering back a few steps before he collapsed, clutching at his throat. The child, perhaps sensing that this wasn't a fluke, leapt and tore the rod from his belt and actually managed to break it in half, his angry yell echoing in the low-ceilinged room.

The Gamorreans turned around, looked between the boy now glaring at them with bared teeth and hands balled into shaking fists and to Luke, who felled the two closest to him, sending them to the floor clutching at their throats. The other three made a shrieking noise and finally fled, pushing the other Human man still in the room out of the way as he tried to get to the barred door Luke was behind - he didn't get close, as one of the other two slaves in the room used her broom to give him a bone-cracking hit on the head.

Luke winced, then smiled at the two Togrutans and the Human still in the room, aside from the dead guards.

"Could you open the door, and then we'll find you some weapons," he said quietly, and while the children backed away slightly, the old Togruta woman nodded sharply and came over.

_Father, can I talk to you later?_

"Thank you," the old Togruta murmured as she opened the door, and he shook his head. He _wanted_ to reach out and squeeze her shoulder, but he kept his hands at his sides. She didn't need another stranger putting hands on her.

_I want a report when you are done,_ his father snapped and then the bond cooled to its usual state, and Luke had to keep his face straight to not smile. That had been both the father _and_ the military commander in Vader.

"We're not done yet," he said out loud, and while he rather _wanted_ to tell the children to hang back, he didn't. Instead he merely watched as the Togruta boy inched over to the dead overseer and pulled out a blaster and a vibro-blade, the latter which he passed to his companion. The knife wouldn't be of much use at a distance, but if the boys got grabbed, it'd be more useful.

"Let's go," he said, smiling at them, and actually got a smile out of the old woman and the little Human boy; the Togruta boy's expression was more of a viciously pleased grimace than a smile, but that seemed about right, really. As they went up the stairs, Luke realised that he'd have to take it slower than he'd planned - now that he was coming down from the time-suspended fight against the rancor, his leg _burned_ and it almost gave under him at the top of the stairs.

The woman helped him and he mouthed her a thank you as he drew on the Force and stubbornly continued at a jog, which was fast enough the boys had to half-run to keep up anyway, so it was as fast as they probably _could_ go.

_Leia? Can you guys sweep the upper floors while I take the lower ones?_ he gently brushed against her presence and it _jerked_ against his touch, then flared and wrapped around him with a fierceness that made him think of their father... He pushed that thought away, even if it might not be any danger if Leia caught that as long as she didn't notice he'd been thinking 'Darth Vader' and not 'Anakin Skywalker'. 

Even if they were the same.

_... All right. We can do that. Are you all right?_ she prodded at him and he pulled his aches close; tried to hide them.

_I'm fine._ He knew he hadn't succeeded when she _huffed_ across the bond (a flare of cloudy annoyance, prickly and unimpressed).

_I can _feel_ your pain, you know,_ she said and then paused, a stunned moment of suspended silence as she realised that she _could_ do exactly that. 

Then her presence flared, warm and bright and _soothing_ , batting his attempts at hiding the pain away from her and smoothed down it. He could feel his shoulders droop and his step evening out a little. It also couldn't _last_.

_It's okay, Leia. The rancor got my leg, but it's not bad._ It was true, too, even if she was suspicious of his reassurance, but she withdrew after another moment and he almost stumbled before he caught himself - and they _all_ hesitated when they heard the screaming that echoed down the corridor in the next moment. 

Luke set his jaw and nodded, taking the lead again as they turned down a corridor they would've passed otherwise.

Three Weequayans stood outside a door further down the corridor, one of them with a Pantoran girl over her shoulder and dragging a Twi'lek by her _lekku_ , which explained why the poor girl was moaning and twisting, hands weakly pulling at the grip on her lekku but not really _fighting_. The other two stood guard over a small group of six huddled slaves, and with a chest or two under their arms.

All three of them paused and looked up, grinning when they saw the small group of four approaching them.

"Well, what'd we have here..." the woman with the Pantoran girl over her shoulders said, chuckling, then nodded to one of the other ones who pulled out a tarnished silver rod. Luke scowled.

"Put that thing down, leave these people here and _no one_ needs to be hurt," he said, straightening up as much as he could with his leg refusing to quite bear his full weight. 

They laughed, all three of them. He hadn't really expected anything else.

"Or _what_ , pretty boy? You should just make this easier on yourself," the Weequayan woman said, clearly their leader and he _almost_ thought of a memory from when he was eight - but he _wasn't_ eight and even if he currently still had no actual physical weapon...

"Your prisoners will show less mercy than I will," he said quietly and smiled at them, right before he glanced to the slim silver rod in the hand of the guard and closed his fist, spilling metal and plastic all over the rough, spotted floor. 

And then their weapons went flying. The two Weequayan men were taken completely off-guard, one of them doubling over from the shot the Togruta child beside Luke burned into his knee. Then he was clubbed over the head by the shock-stick one of the slaves in the group in front of him had grabbed and then _both_ Weequayans were on the floor, the scent of burning flesh and ozone sharp in the air.

The woman stumbled away, clearly of a mind to use the Pantoran and Twi'lek as shields, but the Pantoran woman kneed her and with an angry yell, the Human boy in Luke's group launched himself at her. Thick, treated leather armour or not, vibro-blades, especially heavy-duty ones like the one the child was wielding, slid through it with minimal effort.

Turning away slightly while the angry group took their frustration, fear and pent-up inability to act out on the three Weequayans, Luke stared at the wall and not a single thought came to him, except for a vague sense of satisfaction. 

Over an hour later, a group of almost fifty were gathered in the throne room - after they had dumped Jabba's corpse into the rancor's pit by carefully removing the grating and then quickly putting it back, though the rancor was all too distracted by the mound of meat it had been offered to attempt to snatch anyone.

"You'll be all right, now?" Leia asked, the helmet tucked under one arm and her other hand wrapped around Oola's shoulder and frowning, "we can't help much, but I'm sure we could provide _something_ to help you get settled, or maybe leave." Leia knew she couldn't offer much, but she was just as obviously determined to do whatever she _could_.

"We'll manage," Oola said, teeth sharp in the gloom as she didn't _quite_ smile, "Jabba's goons didn't loot the _whole_ place."

And who better and more deserving of the ill-gotten gains to get back on their feet than some of the people who'd suffered the most under the Hutt and his 'court'? 

Luke smiled faintly and closed his eyes, but didn't relax enough to tilt his head back against the wall, even if he _was_ leaning against it. It was filthy, and while he undoubtedly was too, no need to make it much worse than it already was.

_Father? We cleaned the place out with the help of the former slaves._ Luke reached nearly reflexively towards the darkly glowing corner of his mind that was his connection to his father, and tried not to feel guilty about it. 

Had he accepted this too fast? Was he being too unwary? The man was not, by any stretch of the imagination, _kind_. And here he was, reaching out, _wanting to_ , the second he had the chance to do it, even if he still was uncertain what to say when there wasn't an obvious topic at hand.

_You are injured,_ the dark voice was disapproving even as warm approval slid around him, pulled him closer to that distant nova of icy fire, and that... maybe, was why. His father had let him go when he didn't have to, wasn't just interested in his abilities. Was concerned, even if he undoubtedly wouldn't admit to it, when there was no reason for him to _actually_ be.

He'd told Ben that there was good still in Darth Vader... in _Anakin Skywalker_ , and he believed it. That was why. And also, because he wanted his father. Luke could admit to that, too, even if it brought another burst of guilt along.

_Not bad. Just my leg. I'll be able to walk out of here,_ he said and couldn't contain his amusement. The response was a slight chilling of the warmth, though it didn't _leave_.

"Luke?"

He opened his eyes to Leia and her hand on his shoulder, and couldn't say how long he'd stood there or what Leia and Oola might have talked about while he'd turned to his father.

"We're ready to leave," she frowned up at him, the hand on his shoulder tightening, "and you need that leg looked at."

"Lead the way," he leaned down to drop a kiss on her forehead, pushing away from the wall and bit his lip to not cry out as he collapsed against her, leg giving way under him.

"Chewie! Come carry Luke, please!"

He considered protesting, especially when he saw Han's amused smirk, but then Chewie was picking him up and, all right. He could deal with this, he supposed.

"Thank you."

Luke looked down into Oola's dark eyes and grinned.

"I only gave you the weapons. You," he paused, looked up to sweep the room and met a few answering smiles, "were the ones who used them to fight."

Oola smiled and squeezed his wrist, then let go, letting Chewie walk up the small flight of stairs out of the throne room.

_We're leaving now,_ he said, reaching again for the dark fire that hadn't exactly left yet. His father's presence shifted, brushed down the ache - he almost thought it would tangle with _Leia's_ , who was there as well, but they _somehow_ did not collide - and snorted (a sort of mental electrified thrumming echoing through his mind). 

_And what now?_

_Aside from one small thing I need to do... a new lightsaber, I suppose._ But Luke still didn't know how to do that, or where to go - though he had a thought of checking out Ben's hut, if there might be anything left hidden away. He was distracted from his thoughts as he felt a sudden flare of uncertainty from Vader, before it contracted into something hard and indecipherable. 

_You can create crystals artificially, or... There's Ilum._

_Ilum?_

But his father had suddenly withdrawn, and Luke was left asking the question into the empty nothing of his own head.

He _almost_ snorted out loud, and Leia caught his shifting mood with a raised eyebrow. He just smiled at her and shook his head. She frowned at him for a moment longer before she turned back to Han where they were walking hand in hand along the corridor that'd let them out of Jabba's palace.

Ilum... Well, maybe. He had a clue, now, he supposed, but there were still a few things he needed to do here on Tatooine first.


	4. Visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see Vader's side of the whole debacle with the assault on Jabba's palace, the group visits the homestead for a few heart-to-hearts, and the Force doles out visions!

**Mustafar.**

Spending a night and part of a day in restless, wound-tight tension because of Luke's unexpected and very brief call was displeasing. Mostly because Vader didn't know what had caused his son to reach out after a week of silence, and then merely affirm that he was all right without explaining. 

That had been startling; he'd assumed any contact Luke would initiate would be more questions about the past, or perhaps his mother, now that he actually knew enough to ask. At the time, startled awake and then trying to sleep again, he'd let it go, but now he'd spent several hours tearing through the _Executor_ , and, when those tasks that required his presence on the ship was done, down in the complex on Mustafar to see about the newest possible Inquisitor.

Navda having to deal with the training he was more than pleased to throw at her in this mood - though it was doubtful she noticed any difference - was at least something of a distraction. A distraction which was running out, and perhaps he ought to simply...

_Ah, Father? Do you... have a moment?_

Stiffening, and yet easily avoiding the slash aimed for his head, Vader was almost _relieved_ even if he wouldn't admit to it. He could now rebuff any attempt Luke would make to inquire about the datapad and the information within, and he'd be able to stop wasting attention and energy towards wondering when the question would come.

But then that wasn't at all what Luke had reached out to him for and he froze for a precious moment before what Luke was saying actually registered and sneered at Navda's triumphant expression when she thought his distraction would earn her a victory; he simply sent her flying into a wall.

He'd turned on his heels and stalked out of the hall before he quite thought about it, then slowed and finally stopped - it wasn't as if he could reach the boy in time.

Whatever that 'in time' was supposed to be.

It was, perhaps, foolish to pretend his wish was something other than simply to keep the boy safe, especially when all he could feel in the wake of Luke's comment about having given his blaster away to someone who needed it more was impotent outrage. Impotent outrage for his foolish son, who would, of course, do such a thing, about the situation in general and that he could do nothing about it.

There was, nonetheless, an attempt at such pretense before the frustration burned it away and he focused on the matter at hand. Luke's strength was impressive, and he'd learned quickly on the moon, thus, the solution was simple.

_You have enough control of the Force that you could kill it, Luke. There are several---_

A simple, neat solution, and Luke cut him off, saying he'd _rather not kill it_.

Ignoring the pain lashing through his head as he first tightened his jaw and then ended up grinding his teeth, Vader suppressed a snarl and balled his hands into fists. He could either wait, or give Luke the advice the child assumed he knew but would rather not give him because the method wasn't Sith. Wasn't of the dark side.

He did not want to be teaching his son further Jedi tricks. Even if the boy never turned, _him_ teaching his son Jedi techniques _rankled_. If he waited, however...

Loathing bubbled up, coating every single word as he explained what Luke needed to do, and he did not at all like the pleased gratefulness that bloomed up.

He liked it even less having to _wait_ , not just while Luke took care of the rancor, but also _after_ that and the fact that he'd notice if Luke did not succeed didn't make anything better, either. Arguably, that made it _worse_. He nonetheless took the opportunity to leave the corridor and find an empty room, locking the door behind him and staring at the livid red glow of lava.

This was untenable.

Not just having to wait, though the distant star of Luke's presence was something of a reassurance for the moment, but the fact of his... state of mind. It wasn't entirely unfamiliar - he'd spent the last three years in something of a similar state of mind. The overarching desire had been to simply bring Luke close, so he could... well, he'd never thought much past that, he could admit, aside from the nebulous plans of killing Palpatine.

His Master.

Whose very existence threatened Luke (and his own), because either he'd bring the boy to heel, or kill him as a threat. Rage bubbled up, slow as molasses and fighting against the apathy that had been building since his failure in Cloud City. Perhaps he did not need Luke turned, but in that case he would not dare bring the boy in front of his Master...

Luke's presence reached for him again, drew him back from his thoughts and presenting him with the unavoidable reality of an injury, as the brilliant nova flickered with pain.

And of course the child simply brushed it off - a familiar attitude, but one he didn't appreciate when aimed at him by his _son_.

_And what now?_ The boy had rescued Captain Solo now, after all, so while that meant he should be going back to the rebels, Vader still found himself asking.

_Aside from one small thing I need to do... a new lightsaber, I suppose,_ Luke said, sounding somewhat... lost. Lost enough Vader hesitated, fought with the urge to tell him against the annoyance of _having to tell him_ , but finally did. And not just about the artificial way to create crystals, like Sith did.

What he'd been thinking, Vader wasn't sure, but done was done and he withdrew sharply.

***  
**Tatooine**

Peering down the ramp to the hard-packed sandy ground below, Luke could only see the bottom of sooty pourstone buildings from his location. Soon enough he'd see more of them than he'd seen in years. The last sight of them had been after that awkward, angry, despairing attempt at clawing through the sand, keeping the burned-down farm and the smoke still boiling from the buildings and pits at his back as he buried what was left of his aunt and uncle.

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of it and he jerked upright, looking up into Han's concerned scowling, Leia right at his side. She ducked away from the arm Han had around her shoulders and grabbed his hand, squeezing.

"You don't have to do this, you know," she said quietly, and Chewie moaned agreement behind them while Han nodded sharply, clapping a hand to his shoulder, too.

"No, I... should," he said slowly and shook his head, glancing down the ramp again and then around the group, "after this... you guys continue back to the Fleet, I have something I need to do." 

"You're not running off right now, are you?" Han scowled, the hand on his shoulder tightening as if he could keep him there by that single grip. Luke also felt Leia brush against him in the Force; twitching, concerned blue as she frowned, the hand she still had grasping his tightening as well.

"I need to make a lightsaber, and while I'm not sure there'll be anything _usable_ left, there might be something hidden in Ben's hut. I need to try, at least," Luke shook his head, glancing between them - he met Chewbacca's eyes briefly, and the Wookiee nodded; Luke had a feeling Chewie had already guessed what it was he was intending before he explained.

"We can just get ya another blaster, you know," Han said with a frown, but there was a certain degree of annoyed resignation in his voice that drew a grin out of Luke.

"You really think it can't wait?" Leia asked, frowning, her hand still tight around his, and he shook his head and took a step down the ramp, pulling on their joined hands.

"We got Han back, but who knows what'll happen as soon as we get back, or shortly after? I need to take this opportunity, and this is the best place I know where to start." 

Sure, there was Vader's suggestion of Ilum, but that would only cover the crystal - he didn't know the first thing about the rest and since a lightsaber _wasn't_ just its crystal... he needed to know more. Father might tell him, but Luke had the feeling he needed to do this, at least to start, on his own. He also had a feeling that was why Vader had only mentioned Ilum or creating the crystal artificially, and nothing else.

"All right," Leia said with a sigh, smiling up at him and following it up by stepping close and kissing his cheek, then passed him and led _him_ down the ramp instead of the reverse. Luke waved up at Han, Chewie and, further back behind them, Lando, Artoo and Threepio.

"You need to tell him," Luke said as they walked closer to the burned out homestead, "I wonder if Chewie doesn't know somehow, but Han---"

"I know. I'll tell him when we're off Tatooine," Leia shook her head and flashed a dry grin up at him, "I'm not going to let him think whatever it is he might be thinking about us for long." She squeezed his hand to emphasis it, and despite the numerous possibilities Luke could think of, he laughed. 

As they neared the entrance dome, Luke steered her away from it, catching sight of the partially melted and then cooled off walls where the fire had ravaged the inside. 

They could go in, but Luke didn't want to do _that_. There was probably nothing left, both due to the fire and thanks to the various scavengers that made Tatooine their home (and with those he didn't just mean Jawas and Tusken).

"This way," he muttered, leading them away from the burned-out dome and the pits. Trying to ignore the stripped or outright missing vaporators that should've been scattered around the homestead nearly as far as they eye could see, Luke paused them at flat spot some meters away from the homestead. An empty stretch of desert like the rest, there was nothing here, now, that would mark the spot as anything other than another patch of desert.

Leia looked up at him, head cocked and eyebrow raised.

"I buried my aunt and uncle here," Luke said quietly, squatting down and grabbing a handful of sand, letting it trail out between his fingers, "in a single grave. It was too hard to make two, and I didn't want to stay 'less the stormtroopers came back." No, he'd _wanted_ them to come back, wanted it so hard and being so angry, but he hadn't had any weapons.

Leia's hand fell to his shoulder and squeezed, but she stayed silent. Her warm, fierce blue reached out across the not-distance between their minds, smoothed love down along the jagged edges. Behind it, as warm and gentle as it was, Luke could feel the yawning darkness where her parents should be, the fractured abyss where Alderaan had been.

"Grandmother and Grandfather are buried next to them." He pointed to the equally unmarked desert beside the one they were standing by, while he reached back in their connection, wrapped himself around her. She was stiff, but she softened after a moment, the blue ice melting to let him past, letting him spill quiet, green light in the darkness of her broken childhood home and family.

"Uncle Owen wasn't my father's actual brother, and I think they only met once. I didn't know my grandmother, but both Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru talked about her... Uncle loved her like a mother, but he only met her after..." Luke paused, frowning at the sand. He'd never liked this part, no matter what things came _after_.

Leia squatted down beside him, her arm around his shoulders now, and he wrapped an arm around her waist; they hugged like that, ignoring the suns' heat to give simple closeness, filling each others cracks.

"After..?" Leia asked, looking down at the sand and, after another moment, scraping up a handful as well and letting it scatter out of her fingers over the graves.

"After Grandfather bought Grandmother."

Leia _started_ , the last bits of sand going flying both from her motion and the wind snagging the grains, and he could feel her gaze on him. Luke kept his on the sand.

" _Bought her_? Luke, what---"

"Shmi was a slave, Leia. Both she and Father were," Luke said slowly, finally looking up from the ground to meet her wide, fathomless eyes, the realisation dancing on the surface of them, "Father was freed when he was nine... Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru always made it sound as if he managed to win his freedom himself in the podrace he participated in, but since Ben said he became a Jedi, I'm wondering..."

He shrugged; it didn't really matter, he supposed, but maybe he could ask Father about it later, maybe that was something he wouldn't mind talking about.

"Grandmother wasn't freed until years later, after Cliegg Lars had bought her. Tusken kidnapped her later and I... don't know how Father chanced coming back here right then, but he got her body back." He thought about his vision of Han and Leia while he was on Dagobah, and maybe Vader had had a vision like that? He hoped not. 

"What about your family?" Luke asked, rather not wanting to linger on their father and grandmother's past, and Leia probably needed time to think over that, either way. Though, he realised she wasn't about to just let it go that easily, the way she suddenly frowned.

"Luke, you can't just tell me something like that and then change the topic!"

"I'm not changing the topic," he shook his head and even dared to smile at her; her frown deepened, "sharing family history---" He cut himself off, blinking, remembering they had some alive, still, though Leia hadn't looked at the info he'd shared with her yet.

"And we've got cousins. And an aunt on Naboo," he added, and Leia shivered, bright, blue and trembling, all the way from her feet to her presence in the Force. He hugged her closer again. "So what about yours?"

He knew a little, of course, but they'd never really talked much about the past, except for things they'd done or what they liked or similar. Family had rarely entered into it; a huge, aching hole neither had wanted to touch. 

Leia let out her next breath slowly, eyes slipping closed. Luke squeezed her waist and soothed the sudden fractures he could feel in her presence.

"... Mama was always going to be the Queen of Alderaan," Leia said after a few moments, her fingers digging into Luke's shoulders. It was now her turn to stare at the desert underneath which the bodies of some of their family lay buried. "She ascended the throne young. She always said her and Papa's first meeting was her dropping an overripe rose plum on him, from a balcony. _He_ said they met in a field a few days later, when she'd fallen off her thranta. Mama used to say that was when they first talked, and always refused to change the plum story."

There was a tiny, hurting smile on Leia's face, and she was pressed against him as much as she was clutching him closer, as if trying to ensure he couldn't leave and trying to hide at the same time.

"They married after Papa had become the Senator of Alderaan. Apparently they had a huge argument on his inauguration day and they continued it at breakfast the morning after," Leia swallowed, seemed to suck back the tears threatening in that movement until she was bright-eyed and firm. The smile she gave Luke when she tilted her head to glance at him wasn't quite as aching as before. "I always thought they must have been joking about that argument; I never saw them fight in my whole life."

"Maybe they got all the fight out of them back then?" Luke offered and Leia laughed, looking startled when she did so. Standing up, Luke held his hands out and pulled Leia up to her feet after she'd taken them. He didn't let go immediately, however, rather he squeezed her hands and leaned down, kissing her forehead. "There's something else, too... but I'll tell you when I've made my lightsaber, all right?"

She huffed, frowning at him for a moment before she shook her head and leaned up, brushing her lips against his cheek.

"All right. If that's how you want to do it. I'll hold you to that, though, little brother."

Staring down at her, it was Luke's turn to huff.

"I'm not the younger one!" He felt pretty certain in this declaration, but Leia smirked and pulled her hands free, patting his cheek.

"Whatever you say, Luke. Don't stay here too long, or we're coming back to get you," Leia said sternly, fully intending to do so if it was necessary. 

Then, after catching one of his hands and giving it a last squeeze, walked back to the _Falcon_ , passing Artoo as he rolled down the ramp. At least Luke would have someone left to keep an eye - so to speak - on him.

_If anything happens, you'll know, I promise,_ Luke muttered in that shared space in and between their minds, making her shiver even in the heat of Tatooine's suns. That was still so... strange. Useful and, she could admit, strangely familiar, but so very _strange_.

"Couldn't convince him to leave with us, then?" Han said, though there was an edge in his voice that couldn't only have been because Luke, prone to getting into trouble as he was, was staying behind. Peering up at him as she came to the top of the ramp, she shook her head and reached out, snagging his hand - and definitely felt hesitation there.

She was _pretty_ sure she knew what it was, and it was, probably, best to have that talk with Han as soon as possible. As in now.

"No," she said, and couldn't help the sigh, feeling her stomach twist and wasn't sure whether that was perfectly mundane anxiety or something entirely else. Something like the Force.

"Kid's gonna get in trouble," Han muttered, leading the way to the cockpit, "but he _can_ handle himself too, you know that, Princess."

"I think I know that better than _you do_ , Han," she said with a snort, feeling warm amusement push the uneasy flop of her stomach away, even as something lurked outside of her, pressing down on her with a sense of impending... something. Not danger, not exactly, not _yet_ , but nothing necessarily good either. "Han, wait."

He'd been about to open the door into the cockpit, but let his hand drop away from the controls, and his shoulders drooped too.

"You don't have to tell me, Leia. I can take a hint. I'll let you---"

"I don't think you can take a hint _at all_ , Han Solo," she snapped, took her hand back (he easily let her) and then pulled him around. He was scowling, and if he didn't have everything completely wrong, she'd think he looked cute like that. 

Maybe. He was mostly being annoyingly obtuse.

"I..." she had to pause and take a breath, steadying herself. Was she even ready for this? She decided, staring up into Han's confused-annoyed look (clearly he wasn't a nerf-herder, he was a _nerf_ , because that look was pretty spot-on for those creatures), that she had to be. She took hold of his vest, rather wished there'd been a reason to go into the main hold so she could've sat him down, and tugged on the cloth.

Han's confused-annoyed expression deepened and he didn't move.

"I love Luke, yes, but that's because he's my _brother_. My twin brother," she said, starting at the easiest part of this, and realised that that was exactly it. 

Maybe not from the absolute beginning, even if the connection she could admit to and now see _had_ been there from the beginning, was because of that. But anything after that... even when she'd unfairly used Luke to get back at Han, had been because of them being siblings.

_Twins_. Even unknowingly so.

"But you happen to be the scoundrel - and the _only_ scoundrel - I... love."

Something tangled itself into a huge, spiked ball in her throat as she said that, as she admitted it like she hadn't done before, not even while they'd sat together after they'd freed Han from the carbonite. She tugged on his vest again and this time he came easily, his eyes wide. She kissed him until the spiked ball was gone and his arms were wrapped tight around her, solid and---

"So, people, are we--- Woah!" Lando threw his hands up, laughing and backing out of the access corridor to the cockpit, and Leia felt a giggle bubble up at the look Han tossed Lando over her head; she swallowed it because she did not _giggle_.

"Come on, Captain Solo. Let's leave. And keep one foot in the _Falcon_ when we're back at the Fleet, in case Luke needs the help."

"When do I ever do anything else? The kid can't take more'n a couple of steps before he gets in trouble," Han snorted, wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her close, dropping a kiss on her forehead before he pulled them both inside the cockpit. Chewie's look was very knowing, even if his greeting roar sounded perfectly normal.

"Shut, up, furball."

***  
Watching the _Falcon_ lift off in a swirl of sand and take to the skies, Luke smiled as he remembered the bright, bubbling pulse of anxiety-happiness from Leia, which had now settled into a contented glow.

Artoo twittered, waggling from side to side beside him, and Luke dropped a hand to the dome carefully, only barely brushing the hot metal.

"No, I need to do this, Artoo, and I feel like I at least have to _start_ here."

Artoo let out something between an electronic huff and a splat, but settled down when Luke sat down, ignoring the sand and the suns and relaxed into the heat.

It burned, at first, like it always did, deep and overwhelming - but the longer he sat there, feeling out the subtle and surprisingly rich flow of the Force, the more that heat turned into something that was within him more than beating down from the outside. 

His breathing evened out, turned faint and deep as the Force drew close, an endless sea of separate points of light and life kept in every single grain of sand, coalescing into larger points of life in the scattered wildlife and, further away, the Jawas, Tusken, Humans and other beings in the cities and the wide wastelands of Tatooine.

There was... so _much_ , and Luke wondered, vaguely, why that was; shouldn't Tatooine have been relatively barren in the Force, as much as it was relatively barren in life as well?

The Force swirled, warm and blinding, and Luke _almost_ followed that, followed his vague question - but he was doing this for a reason. Maybe that reason would end up being tied to the incongruous brightness of Tatooine, but he needed to make an effort first. So he pulled away from that first tug and turned towards his actual question.

The issue of a lightsaber, its crystal, and how to build it.

The question was barely formed in his mind before the light around him pulsed. His eyes were closed, yet they were not, and he was sitting at the graves of his family, yet he was not.

Luke recognised the landscape he flew - ran? - over, the light spilling over rock and sand and casting the small hut perched against the canyon wall into curious shadow. It was like seeing the hut both as it probably _was_ (a ruined, picked-bare mess) and as it _had been_ (neat, rundown, and equipment and furniture practically _everywhere_ ).

Light swirled around him, alighting at a spot here, another there, then sunk into the floor, and Luke knew exactly what it was he needed - what it was he could still find in Ben's hut, and what he'd need to get elsewhere. He could even see, as if it actually had happened, Ben pulling his lightsaber apart with the Force, and then putting it together again.

Smiling faintly, feeling pleased, Luke knew there was one thing left, but his father had said he could go to---

The light burned through him, a pillar of searing fire like he'd imagine the Death Star's beam had been, then bent away from where his body was, pulled him along. There was nothing to do but follow, blinding green and yellow around him and he could swear they looked like trees, rushing rivers, with Tatooine's twin suns above and the moons as well, glittering in a too-bright night as a crevice in the rock that had suddenly appeared loomed large and he'd slam right into it---

Artoo's sharp beeping cut through his awareness, tossing him back to the homestead and Luke nearly choked on his breath, swaying even while sitting down and not at all feeling the burn of the sand against his palm as he caught himself. Blinking into the sunlight, Luke stood up, brushed sand off his hands and ruffled his hair, ignoring that he was definitely getting sand into his scalp.

He knew where he needed to go, and it wasn't Ilum.

***  
**Mustafar.**

He should have returned to throwing that infernal Twi'lek against the walls of the training hall, but instead he'd remained, staring at the hated sight of molten rock as it bubbled away, hands clasped behind his back after he'd cut their conversation short. 

The light flickered on the walls, turning the metal ruddy and the shadows into abysses and he could easily - far too easily - imagine-remember running over one of the landing platforms, sweeping that slight, beloved form into his arms. Her presence had barely soothed down the crush of breathless rage and triumph he'd been riding on; instead he'd simply fit her into it, set her where he thought she deserved to be.

_'Anakin, oh, Anakin!'_

_He pulled her close, spinning her around, then finally set her down, but didn't lean into the touch when she cradled his face._

_'Anakin, come away with me!'_

_She stared up at him, her dark eyes huge, her skin a ghastly shade from the red light of the lava. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, to offer her the galaxy, throw accusations at her, tear into her with his betrayed anger, she staggered back._

_She reached for him, wordlessly pleading - for mercy or help, was impossible to say - as the red light was joined by sharp, flickering blue-shaded white, lightning tearing across her curves, smoking off her skin._

_The body that fell to the ground, the light now golden instead of ruddy and reflecting off sandy-coloured rock walls and not metal, wasn't his long-dead wife, however._

_It was his son._

The pain from the half-healed wounds on his head yanked him back into his own body and he reached without thinking, the only thought an unformed fear of finding that light _gone_.

_Son!_ It took until after he'd snapped that word out across their link and the distance between them before he realised that Luke's light was just as it'd been a few hours earlier, bright and strong, though with the slightest shade of lingering pain from his injury.

_Father?_ Luke's response, in turn, was confused but calm - though of course edging towards worry when Vader did not hide his own earlier emotions quickly or well enough. Scowling, he smoothed them out and pulled his shields up. He should have taken a moment before he checked up on the boy, but Luke had the tendency to to make him do things he never intended, even when he wasn't even present, apparently.

_Whatever plan you are involved in, desist immediately._ He could not say why, other than that the vision had come with a creeping sense of certainty that something terrible would happen (aside from Luke dying to Sith lightning, that was) if things proceeded as they were, apparently, moving towards.

_... I'm just going to build my lightsaber, Father. It'll be all right. I haven't even left Tatooine for the Fleet yet,_ Luke said, reassurance pulsing back towards him, trying to soothe the jagged ends his son couldn't even see anymore, but was, apparently, convinced were still there. He saw too clearly.

_Then leave Tatooine, young one,_ he snapped, tightening his hand around his wrist where he still held both hands behind his back, glowering down at the lava, _you cannot get all you need there anyway._

Luke, strangely enough, _laughed_ \- both a not-sound like their words, and a glittering starburst in the darkness between their minds - and sounded very pleased.

_I think I can, though._

Dread clenched him, and he felt like he was standing in the Council chamber again, standing in the Chancellor's office - he shook it off.

_Be careful,_ he growled, frustrated he could simply just not reach out and pick the boy up by the back of his collar and drag him away, somewhere where the vision would be negated. 

He needed to... what?

***  
**Coruscant.**

True sleep happened only rarely, and this was not sleep; this was complete, half-aware immersion in the dark side, riding the eddies of the city-planet's many billions of lifeforms, tugging at the dark energies _just so_... 

And it was the dark side rearing up, dragging him deeper.

_The Skywalker brat stood surrounded by a golden-green light like fire. When he reached out, it dripped from his hand like water, leaving puddles on the ground, and as he touched the flank of a great, black krayt dragon, the fire consumed it, leaving only a bright blue star behind._

Sucking a sharp breath in between his teeth as he came out of the vision, the undisputed ruler of the Galaxy, Darth Sidious (though known as Emperor Palpatine to the lesser masses), clutched at the armrests firmly enough to make his joints ache.

The dark side did not give him _metaphorical tales_. 

The light side did not give such visions either.

And in that lay the sudden issue; the only reason he would be presented with such useless tripe was because something was _interfering_.

Sunken, yellow eyes narrowing, Palpatine leaned back in his throne and closed his eyes again, ripped the dark side close and demanded a solution.

_Red light slashed down towards the son of Skywalker, who tried to ward it off barehanded. The_ Executor _hung in orbit over the Sanctuary Moon. The boy flew into a sand-coloured rock wall, twisting as Sith lightning tore across and into his body. On the ground between them, a female Twi'lek lay, dead. Her purpose clearly fulfilled already._

Opening his eyes again, Sheev Palpatine smiled sharply.


	5. The Plan and the Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Navda gets her marching orders and does as demanded, Darth Vader gets his and doesn't, while Luke follows the light.

**Mustafar.**

Facing the door of her cell (a 'room' if one was generous, but it was locked unless someone came to fetch her, therefore a cell), Navda thrummed with the need to _move_.

Nails digging into the palms of her hands, she didn't flinch at the little pinpricks of pain; they were nothing. Pain merely informed her she needed to _do better_ , gave her an edge to play off. She preferred the pain she inflicted on others, because then she knew she was getting somewhere. That sort of pain also sung through her, made her blood dance. Even the petty, insignificant sort of pain you could inflict, that didn't really do any damage had that result.

There had been far too much of the former for the last week, and not enough of the latter.

Grinding her teeth, Navda felt her lekku twitch from their base all the way down to their split ends with her frustrated agitation. She did not like sitting here waiting for others to dictate her day. That was the reason she'd gone into... free-trading, so to speak, and worked herself up to the head of her own little group. Most of the pain to be found in _that_ life had come from others, and had spurred her on, wrapping around her head with sweet arousal.

She had gone along with this for two things only; one, she would otherwise be dead, and two, she wanted to know how to use this power that she'd vaguely trailed behind her her whole life apparently, and which had risen up brightly the last week after the building on her moon had activated. She could feel the pain she could bring with it, the pain it was bringing _her_ , and it spurred her, as always.

What rankled was that she didn't _need this_ ; had the Skywalker brat not accidentally managed to best her, she could've trained more in that building, gotten a new crew and _no one_ would have been able to tell her what to do.

Unfortunately, said Skywalker brat _had_ bested her, and now... this.

She wanted to wring the callow boy's neck, make him _scream_ \---

The door opened.

"Initiate. The Emperor calls you." The Inquisitor in the doorway handed her a holotransceiver and a locked box, then retreated out the door. It closed behind him, but she paid no attention. She knew, without a doubt, that there were only two people that she needed to be wary of, here (she did not consider the other Inquisitors to be worthy of such attention), and that was the Dark Lord of the Sith who'd dragged her before the Emperor of the known Galaxy, and the Emperor himself.

"Your Majesty," she murmured, going down on a knee and holding the transceiver on one hand, the other a fist on the floor, her head bowed. Don't look him in the eyes. Navda knew a predator when she saw one, and while Darth Vader was wounded, he was still a predator... the Emperor was as well. Old, cunning, and his claws and teeth were far sharper than they looked.

"Initiate," the Emperor rasped, a glitter of... something in his yellow eyes, which were only barely visible by the hood falling over his face, turning the shadows into claws tearing into his ravaged flesh, "I have a mission for you. It will earn you your lightsaber and a full position as an Inquisitor."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she dug her nails into the palm of her hand again, to substitute for having no one else around to rake her nails into their flesh.

"Whatever my Emperor desires," she said, biting down on the grin that wanted to escape, because she felt something shift, something that promised _pain_. The Emperor cackled, apparently pleased, then leaned forward a little.

"You are to go to Tatooine and the southern hemisphere; you know Skywalker's signature, so search until you find it and then find _him_ ," the Emperor paused, yellow light glowing in the shadows, flickering invisibly around the nearly monochrome, blue-cast holo of the Emperor's head, "kill him."

Navda missed the Emperor's smile as she dipped her head in a nod, all too busy with feeling pleased about this command, about this _chance_ to see anything else but success. 

_Her_ success.

"As you command."

The transmission cut and she tossed the holotransceiver behind her, reached for the box - the biometric lock opened at the brush of her thumb, revealing the standard lightsaber of the Inquisitorus within.

Navda didn't care what weapons she wielded as long as they worked, gave her what she wanted, and, if she was not about to kill someone immediately, that it inflicted pain. Lightsabers were good at all three of those things, if one knew how to handle them. So she was pleased at seeing the weapon, clipped it to her belt and stood up.

The door opened for her as she strode out, head high, her split-end lekku twitching again.

The Force was not destiny - she didn't _believe_ in destiny, in that some few were naturally ordained to rule over others by virtue of simply being _gifted_ with something. No, you worked for whatever you got, and that was what earned you anything at all. 

But the Force wasn't destiny; the _dark side_ wasn't destiny, but pain could be used to draw the dark side, and Navda was all too enamoured with pain to not use such a tool to get what _she_ wanted, now that she was aware of it.

So she would do this, she would gain her spot in the Inquisitorus, and then do only as much as she had to, for those who would command it, so she could do what _she_ wanted.

Which, firstly, happened to involve killing Luke Skywalker.

***  
 **The _Executor_ , in orbit above Mustafar.**

Desert light glowed red like blood on indistinct sand and rock and someone, his son, _Luke_ , was screaming. The young face was twisted into something it took several moments to register as pain, and a little further until the yelling made sense.

_"Father, no!_

Breath harsh in his ears, Vader sank forward before he stopped himself and straightened up, fingers digging into the leather of the armrests. That had not been like the dream... vision? earlier, the one with his wife and son. This one had felt more like the visions and dreams he'd had of his mother, of Padmé dying in childbirth.

Cold settled around his heart, buried razor-ice claws into ravaged flesh and he _almost_ stormed off to the holopad to ask his Master for advice. But his Master had lied about her death. His Master would not be interested in what _he_ might want. Would, undoubtedly, find some way to turn this to his own advantage.

Staring emptily at the brightly lit white and grey of the inside of his hyperbaric chamber, Darth Vader was, quite frankly, trapped. Going to his Master had, always, been the solution, but now - for years - it hadn't, couldn't be. And what was he to do on his _own_ , when it seemed like _he_ was the one who would be causing the boy pain?

But then, hadn't that always been the possibility, the _reality_? 

He'd already hurt him, what was more pain as long as it kept the boy alive? Unless that was what it _wouldn't_ do. It hurt to swallow, but the superficial moisture fed a sandpaper-raw throat while he slowly balled his hands into fists.

Perhaps the solution, then, was simply to do _nothing_ and hope that wouldn't lead to him having to lead his son to his Master. To make sure he did not go to the boy, make sure Luke did not come close to his Master. The thought of doing nothing didn't sit right, but it wasn't as if the child _needed him_. He'd never had, and had refused the well-earned offer of being put here he _should be_ , of wielding the power he should have.

Closing his eyes, Vader took a slow, measured breath.

Tried not to think about the fact that when his son had needed his advice, even if it wasn't advice he had wanted to give, hadn't even wanted to admit he knew the answer to the question, Luke _had_ come to him. 

And while it technically was his fault the pirates had caught Skywalker on the moon to exchange him for the bounty, that would've happened even if Luke wasn't his son given his position as the pilot which had destroyed the Death Star. Further, while that situation hadn't ended as _he_ had wanted, it had nonetheless meant Luke had... relied... on him.

(And returned the favour, more than once.)

Frustration burned through him and he gestured sharply, opening the chamber and stormed across the room to the communications suite. Despite the vision, what he _wanted_ to do was bring the boy close. That was tantamount to a death sentence, however, especially if Luke continued to insist on not turning; his Master was too large of a threat. It was still the desire that burned, tiny but irresistible in a corner where he couldn't reach to stamp it out.

What he should do, was to forget he had a son, forget wanting that power and presence beside him, forget where the child had come from - it wasn't _this life_ , after all. But three years and counting, and despite Cloud City, despite the realisations since, it wasn't... what he wanted. Of course, he already knew he couldn't have what he _wanted_.

"Make sure the Twi'lek initiate is in the training hall," he snapped at the holo of the Inquisitor that appeared when the transmission went through, and he'd almost already turned it off when the expression on the Inquisitor's face registered, making him pause and turn back, " _what_?"

"The initiate was given a mission. By--- by the Emperor."

He flexed a hand, and the Inquisitor swallowed.

He stared for several silent moments and the Inquisitor somehow kept still. Felt cold, gray apathy wash through him, fighting with the incandescent rage that billowed up, because it wasn't hard to see what his Master was trying to do, here. 

Of course, Luke was more than capable of dealing with _that_ particular being, but he was, currently, without a lightsaber, and his first instinct wouldn't be to kill.

The Twi'lek would use that.

Vader stepped off the holopad and terminated the transmission with a wave of his hand, but he'd hardly reached more than two steps away before a familiar chime went through the room.

His Master.

Wrapping his mind in cold anger for a shield that would hopefully be enough, Darth Vader turned on his heel and walked back, sinking to one knee. Remembered again Luke’s accusation and felt his stomach twist with distant, dull rage at the thought of his son kneeling before his Master.

The transmission went through.

"Ah, old friend," his Master said, a faint smile slowly baring his teeth, "I took the liberty of sending our newest potential Inquisitor on a little errand... If she proves herself, she will surely be worth the effort to complete her training, and if not, you will not need to be bothered with her anymore."

Elsewhere, elsewhen, he would have been at least marginally grateful to no longer have to waste the time on the Twi'lek and her training. As it was, he couldn’t quite make himself answer as promptly as he should.

"Thank you, my Master," Vader said after a long moment of silence, the words rolling around him, echoing in the relative sparseness of the commsuite. Dared, for a moment, hope that he would be left to his own devices with his Death Squadron and the Navy. It could be used to cover for what he would rather do - what he would _absolutely_ do as soon as the chance came... Or maybe not. The indecision still clawed on his mind.

"If that is all, I would return Death Squadron to its regular duties."

Emperor Palpatine cocked his head, a shift of cloth and shadow which weighted down the air in commsuite’s room, half a galaxy away.

"You wish to return to the search for young Skywalker," his Master said, the faintest glitter of yellow to be caught underneath the edge of the hood. Vader froze, the hand on his knee and the fist he was resting on the ground both tightening for a brief, endless moment.

"Yes."

This was not a secret. 

His Master knew this already, and there was no reason for him to think it was different than before. Therefore, it was safe to admit to that, admit to this weakness. 

He breathed, slowly, and waited.

"Do not concern yourself with Anakin Skywalker’s offspring, Lord Vader. In time, he will come seek you out. I have another matter that needs your attention."

Briefly, Vader clung to those words, let his apathy be shored up by the reassurance, let his frustration and rage hang onto it as well, because maybe that was the solution--- 

_You would hand me over to him!_

Luke’s words fought with the visions he’d had recently, and Vader had no idea which actually won out in the end. Because what was the implied end - did his son die by his hand by him searching the boy out, or did the child die by his hand by allowing Luke to come to _him_? He didn't know, and in that indecision... 

He swallowed the spike of pain that speared through him, probably from his badly healed scalp wounds, and kept very, very still.

"As you wish, my Master. What is thy bidding?"

"I believe the Endor project will benefit from your presence, old friend. Go there and make sure they do not fall behind in their schedule," Palpatine said, his smile rotten and cold, "the timing _must_ be precise, after all."

He bowed his head and the transmission cut out, though he remained on the holopad for several long, aching moments, his breathing the only noise in the room.

In the end, the decision was both exceedingly simple and excruciatingly difficult; the Endor project might need Darth Vader, but Luke needed...

Vader rose and left his rooms for the bridge.

***  
 **Tatooine, Ben's hut.**

"All right, that ought to be it," Luke said as he closed the bag and threw up it to the floor above, narrowly missing Artoo where the little astromech was leaning over the hole with an air of concern.

Casting a last look around the little space beneath the floor of Ben’s hut - it couldn’t rightly be called a cellar, it was too small for that - Luke knew there was nothing else here that he needed.

Artoo twittered above him, and he shook his head.

"Yes, Artoo, we’re leaving in a moment. I'll be right up." But not, Luke knew, to where _Artoo_ doubtlessly would want them to go. Jumping out of the space with the help of the Force, he levitated the stone that had covered the storage back, heard some mechanism slide back into place... it really wasn’t necessary, for nothing of real use or value was left in the storage, but leaving the hidden space exposed didn’t seem right.

Picking the bag up, Luke patted it, reassuring himself all the things he’d picked up both in Bestine and here in the hut were there, which, of course, they were. Looked around the picked-clean hut one last time, and felt unaccountably melancholic at the half-a-dune’s worth of sand that had blown in.

Not grief like at his family’s graves, but it... wasn’t right.

There wasn’t so much as _splinters_ left of any furniture, the place had seemingly been gone through with a fine-tooth comb. Of course, Ben’s reputation as a ‘wizard’ could only last so long, and the end result, finally, was the same fate that befell any unattended building on Tatooine. Lucky, then, that Obi-Wan had been a step ahead of the scavengers and put in this hidden storage under the floor.

There was a chirp and a gentle thump against his leg as Artoo bumped into him, and Luke smiled, dropping his hand to the dome briefly.

"Sorry. Let’s go," he said and preceded the astromech out of the hut, leading the way down the rocky slope to the canyon floor where it’d been wide enough to put down his X-wing. Turning around as the still-warm shadow cast from the X-wing’s nose fell over them, Luke squatted down before Artoo.

"When we land, you’re going to have to fly the X-wing back, either to the homestead or a good spot in Mos Eisley or Bestine."

Artoo protested, of course, and _loudly_ , rocking a little.

"You _can’t_ come with me, Artoo. I need you to fly the X-wing back and to come get me later; the fighter’s not equipped to fly alone towards a beckon call, so you have to do it." Shaking his head, Luke grimaced and ran a hand through his hair, ignoring his sweaty scalp. Artoo twittered something sharply.

"Because I need to go to the southern hemisphere, and you can’t leave things like ships... or droids, or even people, out in the sun in the southern hemisphere. Whatever I need to do is probably going to take longer than a single night, so you can’t come with me and I can’t leave the X-wing outside there. You _need_ to fly it back north, all right?”

Artoo waggled from side to side again, chirping.

"No, I’m not going to Ilum. I’m doing this _here_..." trailing off, Luke frowned at the canyon wall, watching as twilight slowly crept further down the rock, "I feel like I should. Like I have to." 

The astromech wasn’t impressed by _that_ muttered comment, and Luke smiled lopsidedly.

"I _know_ how that sounds. Now, please, Artoo? I can’t really do this without you."

Well, technically, he could - by leaving Artoo here or maybe at the homestead and flying the X-wing south alone and leaving it at his destination, basically stranding himself until he or Artoo scared up a rescue.

The next noise out of the astromech was long-suffering, sharp and a pretty good imitation of a sigh.

"Thank you, Artoo." Standing up, he levitated the astromech into the socket and then, with another jump, got into the cockpit himself, strapping himself in and finishing up the pre-flight routines Artoo had started.

They soon lifted off into the lengthening shadows as the suns set, and Luke hoped that the place he needed to go wasn’t on the suns-side of the planet, but on the current night-side. Otherwise it’d take even longer to just get there as he'd need to chase the sunset along the planet not to cook either himself, Artoo, or the X-wing.

But there was no use worrying about it yet. Instead he relaxed into his seat, closed his eyes while he let his breath out, and drew the Force close.

The temperature dropped and the darkness closed in as they flew south, Luke barely aware of the adjustments he was doing to their course - distantly hearing Artoo’s nervous twittering when the astromech finally picked up that he was flying with his eyes closed - or the sand and rock passing by beneath them.

Soon, though, the temperature evened out, even _rose_ a little again, and then stayed like that.

Luke dove without any cue other than a distinct yank in the trail he was following, heard Artoo shriek and a proximity alarm go off, but flicked it off with a finger, angling the X-wing sideways for a brief moment before he evened out again. He wasn’t sure what he was following - a sense of rightness, the sound of water that didn't actually exist on Tatooine, the wind as it blew in only one direction?

Whatever it was, when he opened his eyes again they were circling over a small mountain’s worth of rock, sharp cliff-faces exposed to the air and rounded tops having been smoothed by wind. The colours shifted from the natural sand to a faint sort of polished bronze, with a hint of night-shadow purple. The last Luke wasn’t sure if it was a colour of the rock or just the darkness shading it, though. Artoo whistled behind him, and pure reflex had Luke check the screen.

"Yeah, this is our... well, _my_ , destination. _You’re_ still going back north," he said as he circled lower and slower, still trying to catch the last strains of that tugging sensation while Artoo beeped sullenly. Luke elected to ignore it as he found a spot to land, and unstrapped.

The cockpit, however, refused to open when he pressed the button.

"Artoo..."

Another angry beep which drifted off into sulky, electronic silence for several more minutes, but then the cockpit obligingly rose and Luke jumped out, tossing two bags to the ground.

"Go back north, all right? I have the comlink," he dug it out and held it up, "and while it might not work depending on how deep I go, I’ll signal you when I get closer to the surface again... Or I’ll call Leia and _she_ will contact you and tell you I need you, all right?"

He knew he’d be able to reach Leia, despite the distance between them - the same, after all, went for his father. Either way, as Artoo twittered reluctant assent and the X-wing powered up, kicking up clouds of sand and dust as it rose, Luke knew he’d be able to get the lift he'd need, one way or another.

And, he could admit as he turned around to face the rock wall a short distance away when the X-wing and Artoo had disappeared from view, he was relieved that potential backup was there. For while the night was still - and warm, despite it having been night for a few hours by now - there was an undercurrent of _power_ here that slid against his skin and mind both.

It was similar and wholly unlike the Sith moon; it danced before him with an unobtrusive presence that nonetheless made it hard to ignore as he slowly walked, kicking up sand with every step. It made him feel like there was someone else here, despite the fact that he was alone.

Luke followed the wall, which still emanated heat strong enough he didn’t touch the stone, for a few hundred meters before he came to a cave opening. It rose up in a wind-smoothed arch above him, the blackness beyond the entrance absolute; beckoning. In the northern hemisphere, he’d have paused to check for inhabitants; here, it wasn’t really necessary. 

So instead, after a last look up at the slice of sky he could see, the three moons in varying phases and a majestic night sky around them, Luke hefted his bags and walked inside.

Hours later, dawn approaching and the temperature already brushing towards what was temperatures around noon on the northern hemisphere, a small ship set down not far from where Luke had landed his X-wing earlier that evening.

A black-clad Tw'lek slipped out, followed the now-invisible steps Luke had taken to the cave entrance, and didn't look back as she went inside while the first glimmer of Tatooine's primary peeked over the horizon.


	6. Lessons and a Fight (Redux)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke explores the place the Force has led him to and learns a few things, both about Tatooine's past, the Force and him and his father, while Vader is annoyed at the fact that Luke is still on Tatooine. Navda takes a day to catch up to Luke and then does her level best to fulfill her and Palpatine's desires.

**Tatooine, southern hemisphere. Hours before Navda's arrival.**

Inside the cave, even a few hours after sundown as it was, the rock still radiated heat. Not enough to be uncomfortable or more than Luke was used to, however. Feeling the heat rise up through the soles of his boots with every step was familiar... felt, reluctantly, like home, despite how much of Tatooine simply _hurt_ , now.

The cave beyond the entrance was low and wide, no more than two times his own height to the ceiling, and the floor sloped subtly downwards in curiously regular terraces. After two full minutes, Luke realised they weren't _terraces_ , but steps long worn down by sand and wind. Stopping, he tilted his head back, dug out a glowrod, and cracked it.

The ceiling above arched gently, smooth and unworn in a way wind and sand polishing it wouldn't accomplish, and the Force swirled around him. Hesitantly, Luke squatted down and brushed his fingers over the worn rock.

Nothing.

But mostly because he wasn't actually reaching out, even though he hardly had to do even that much. Even just sitting here, he could feel the heady closeness of _power_ pooling around him. It wouldn't take much... 

Closing his eyes, he laid his hand flat on the rock.

Laughter sang distantly, instantly, up around him, the air alive with running feet and pale colours from long robes and carefully wrapped veils. Lights hovered above, carefully constructed spheres of crystal, wires and diodes, needing only the lightest touch of the Force to keep them aloft, even when the corridor was empty.

_This way, come on---_

Shivering, Luke snatched his hand back, rubbed fingers that felt like he'd grasped a live wire, and breathed in hot, dry Tatooine air.

Someone, Jedi or not, had practised the Force here. The light side, he was sure, for the only thing he could feel around him was warmth, light and humming life. Nothing like the cave on Dagobah, or the presence of his father, or the Sith moon. 

Shaking his head, Luke stood up again and hefted his bag over his shoulder. Kept the glowrod as he started walking again, and when the low, downwards stairwell ended in a huge 'cave' so perfectly round there was no way to mistake it for anything but artificial, Luke glanced at the stairs opposite to the entrance that led up, and the doorways that suggested _down_ set on each side of the stairs.

He would like to go up, because surely up would be where most of the living space, and other interesting spaces were, but... He had no idea how large this place was, or how long it'd take him to explore. If he got caught too close to the surface when the suns rose... Another shake of his head and he chose one of the darkened doorways to the right, which did, indeed, lead to a stairwell that went down.

_Careful down there... you're ready, but even life carries dangers, youngling. Don't get lost._

Jerking, Luke clutched the archway and looked around sharply, but the large room was, of course, empty.

He also knew he shouldn't have understood the words that had slid against his thoughts like a warning and encouragement both - they _had not_ been Basic, Huttese or even the broken remains of Tatooine's own language, but the meaning had been clear as day anyway. Glancing back towards the entrance, Luke hesitated. 

He could turn around, go to Ilum instead. 

There was nothing wrong with that - at that thought, the Force hummed around him, agreement and reticence both.

There was nothing wrong with choosing to turn back and take the other path, but...

His glowrod cast a tiny, insignificant pool of light around him, lighting up the polished flagstones a step or two behind him and two steps down into the stairwell, like a pale imitation of Tatooine's overpowering sunlight. There was nothing wrong at all with that, but this place... Tatooine was the beginning. He'd grown up here, and the desert heat and the cooling night air funnelled through old venting corridors to cool it without technology, was familiar.

No.

He wouldn't go to Ilum.

Turning his back on the hall, Luke stepped down into the stairwell. It turned out to be wider than he'd thought it'd be, and soon he stopped staring down at his feet to make sure the steps weren't crumbled. Instead he raised his eyes, secure in the lightness that whispered around him, would let him know where to put his feet - or where to _not_ put them.

The walls were smooth, but not from wind and sand wearing at them, even if there were, of course, sand gathered in the corners of the steps and against the bottoms of them, which could've left the stairs treacherous if Luke wasn't half listening to the Force. Carvings led the light from his glowrod into patterns, revealed...

Luke stopped, cocked his head and reached out, trailing his fingers along a shape that was supremely alien to see depicted anywhere on Tatooine.

A tree.

A tree with wide, slim leaves gathered on stems, vines trailing down the trunk and over the ground, repeated a few steps down, and all along the stairwell. It didn't mean anything, he supposed - the builders of this place could've come from off-world, brought the trees with them, or simply remembered their greener homes.

The Force twisted around him, cool air whispering against his cheek, and he smelled... green.

It was gone in the next moment, and Luke shook his head and continued down the stairs. Another few minutes, and then he stood on flat ground again.

There was also a pale, hesitant light down here, even when he turned off his glowrod; in the ceiling and in the walls, pinpricks of some sort of crystal glowed. Each point negligent, but together the effect was a dim, golden dawn, which lit up one of the most baffling sights Luke had ever seen on Tatooine outside of harvest season; the floor was covered in a shy growth of mint green, leafy vines, trailing along the cracks between the flagstones, radiating outwards from a shallow pool of water at the back of the room.

The low boundary that kept the water in place was completely overgrown with the leafy little vines, and there were flowers and spindly, meter-high bushes framing the pool, close to the wall. The only one of the plants Luke was familiar with and had seen before on Tatooine was the little mint-green vine.

Staring, Luke couldn't help it; he had to close his mouth.

It smelled of water and green in here, as well as a faint, dusty scent that was more familiar; sand and sun-warmed rock. The middle of the floor, where there were no creeping greenery, revealed a bas-relief of Tatooine, its suns and its moons. 

The room pulsed with life.

"What..."

_Do you like it?_

Whirling back to the pool, Luke stared at the pale shadow now standing there. It was more indistinct than Ben had ever been, barely enough to present a coherent image of flowing robes and veils, but the eyes, bright and incandescent like the suns, were surprisingly clear.

"Who're you?" Luke frowned and pulled his bag slightly closer, but didn't go for any weapons; how did you fight a Force ghost with physical weapons, after all? Though the vision in the cave on Dagobah had been physical enough for him to fight it...

_The past. A memory of what they once were, the ones on the surface, carving life out of the sand, the blood of others, and leftover technology._

"The... Tusken and the Jawas?" Luke mumbled, drawing his breath in on the whisper. The apparition nodded, let out something that barely stirred the cloth of their veil, but rang with regret in the Force.

 _We reached too far, and even if the invaders and slavers hadn't come, we would've seared our home dry anyway; this much light and life means you need to be careful,_ the shadow murmured, a little shrug rippling through incorporeal cloth. Shifting on his feet, Luke dropped his bag to the floor and crossed his arms, curious but confused.

"What am I doing here? This isn't a Jedi Temple, isn't it?"

Laughter. Light, sweet, and not mocking at all as the apparition shook its head.

 _Oh no, not at all. We reached for the Force long before the ones who'd first call themselves Jedi formed even the beginnings of that organisation, even if others were reaching for the Force at the same time as we were. No, this is just a place of learning... of discovery. It's **yours**._ The apparition spread its hands wide, and then finally left its spot by the pool, gliding as much as walking, the bottom edge of its robes lost into fading infinity and the greenery on the floor.

 _You must understand, there's a reason your father was born here; there's only a few places in the Galaxy where the light is as untainted as here, despite the state of our home. The others are mostly not suitable for **any** sort of life,_ it paused, tilted its head down to the carving of Tatooine and the suns and moons on the floor, _I'm sure those who brought you back here would give justifications for why they'd hide a vulnerable child in a place such as this, because Tatooine is not a **kind** planet any longer, in any definition of the word, but the truth is, this is where you had to be. The light hid you from the corruption and the one who wields it, and now it can teach you... And you can get what you **need** here, if you wish. You can still turn back, however. Ilum is not a bad choice. It would, at the very least, give you the weapon you seek._

Staring at it, watching the robes of the blue-tinted apparition shade from pale, pastel green to twilight and into yellow-white like the desert at noon, Luke flexed his hands. Almost _did_ feel like turning back around, because what did that even _mean_? 

He'd followed his vision here, certain it was right, but this was bigger than he'd thought. On the other hand... there were no lies; every single word was true, even if he didn't understand all of them (though the implications, especially those about his father, seemed important).

"And if I choose to stay?"

Its eyes were blue now instead of dancing amber, pale and harsh like the sky at noon, but there was a smile there, kind and hopeful.

 _This way,_ it said and led the way back to the pool and pointed right down into it, _through there is the way you want, and don't get distracted. It'll be easy to get lost._

Eyeing the pool dubiously, Luke remembered the whisper he'd heard at the top of the stairs, remembered Yoda sending him into the cave.

"This is a _test_ isn't it?" he said, couldn't help the sigh. Couldn't help the complaint winding itself through his voice. More laughter from the apparition as it began to fade away.

_Life is a test, youngling. Live and learn. The Force has brought you here and is yours to wield, but you need to find your own way._

And then it was gone, and Luke was alone again. 

Though, to be honest, not _really_ alone; the Force was still there, heavy and close and bright; _waiting_. 

Taking a breath, Luke, after some fiddling, got his bag secured on his back, even if it wasn't really meant to be carried that way, and was relieved he'd learned how to swim shortly before they'd gone to Hoth. Carefully sitting down on the edge of the pool, he looked into the water.

It was warm and darkly turquoise, soaking into his pants and weighing down his boots. Kicking his legs experimentally, Luke hoped he'd be able to swim like this. And well, if he _couldn't_ , there'd be no one close enough to be able to do something _anyway_. Taking a deep breath, resisting the urge to reach out to either Leia or his father, he pushed off the edge.

Underwater, there was more space than the basin would've suggested; Luke could easily turn himself around after he spotted the dark hole that clearly was the way he was supposed to go, and kicking off the wall, swimming towards it. It got darker when he pulled himself into the tunnel, carefully feeling out the sides and noted it was wide enough to let him swim easily.

Quickly, because air was an issue here, Luke set off. The water quickly turned his limbs heavy, however, and swirled with warm distraction against his face and pulled on his hair, dragging at the bottom of the jacket. 

He also couldn't see where he was going.

Needing to breathe and knowing he _couldn't_ , he tried to swim faster, but that only made it feel like his progress slowed down further and his fingers slipped on the rock wall, worn smooth by water. Luke kicked, turned himself around, but couldn't see even so much as a glimmer of light in that direction, despite that, surely, he should be able to.

Lungs burning, he turned himself around and continued, but this---

It'd been a mistake.

The warm water pulsed around him, heavy and light in one, and he was starting to forget what to move next to make himself actually move at all through the water.

He wasn't going to...

He _needed_ to _breathe_ , but he couldn't breathe water, he wasn't a... a... fish? That was the word. Flailing, Luke felt distantly embarrassed - he'd drown down here, and it'd be his own stupid fault, and while neither Leia nor his father would get the chance to say 'I told you so', clearly he should've just gone with Leia.

It was warm and dark and maybe it was all right that...

_The Force surrounds us..._

_Life creates it... makes it grow..._

_... partly, but it also obeys your commands._

Blinking, Luke took a startled breath in through his nose, and, had he not already been reaching for the Force in his half-aware state, he _would_ surely have drowned then and there, already having swallowed some water. 

But suddenly it wasn't so dark, and the water wasn't that heavy on his limbs, and his lungs weren't burning.

Pushing away from the rock, Luke swam, and the water seemed to _hum_ now, bright and warm with more than just heat radiated from sun-warmed rock. Whether he was actually breathing at the moment or not didn't matter, because he wasn't just _in_ the water, he _was_ the water, and following the subtle tug of the current and the Force was ease itself.

A few seconds later Luke burst out of the water, clawing for the rock edge he could see. Pulling himself out of the water and onto solid land, he coughed harshly, spattering water from hair, clothes and his mouth down on a thick mat of the minty-green leafy vine from earlier. 

Collapsing on it, Luke rolled around, ending up staring up at a ceiling from which glowing crystal globes hovered, scattering their lights into the pinpricks of crystals set into the walls and sending little rainbows all over the room.

"Stars," groaning, Luke rolled himself to sit upright at least and twisted out of the straps of the bag, letting it drop beside him with a thump. Behind him, there wasn't just a pool; what he'd come out of was more like a small lake, with a robed and veiled statue pouring water from its hands into the little lake, and bone-white, nearly translucent blossoms floating on the surface. 

There were a few other statues around the room, their robes made of vines and leaves and sitting in - Luke thought anyway - meditation. Eyeing the greenery growing along the floor and spilling in flowered vines down along the walls, Luke hoped they wouldn't grown on _him_ if he sat here long enough.

Because here was where he wanted to be (should be) at the moment, that much was clear.

Sitting down a bit more properly and ignoring his wet clothes, Luke took a deep, careful breath and grimaced at the slight burn he could feel. He hoped he hadn't done any damage... 

The Force swirled around him, and he could _almost_ understand something that would help that little burn he could feel as he breathed in. He only hesitated a moment before he closed his eyes and let himself fall into the Force, and it'd never been as easy as it was at that moment, not even while Yoda had helped him.

Time disappeared.

Something flickered against his awareness.

Luke started, reaching out towards the sensation creeping through the light nearly reflexively, but then fumbled and stopped.

That wasn't his father.

Blinking, Luke glanced to the chronometer; it was hours since he'd sent Artoo away. His breath came easily, now, and Luke knew _exactly_ what he'd done, and how to repeat it. Healing. He hadn't thought that was possible.

... No, that wasn't true; he had simply not thought about it at all.

Shaking his head to focus back on the presence he'd felt, Luke frowned. It was familiar... Reaching out again, he could just barely find it, a thread of anger and spikes, twitching like it was seeking a target to hurt. A memory flashed through him of a dark entrance hall and a red blade coming at him.

Navda.

He almost stood up, but there was no sense of _needing to move_...

 _She will come, but it will take her some time. She will find our heart difficult to move through as she is. Focus on what you need to do._ The whisper floated around him, almost disappearing before he'd registered it at all. Frowning a little, Luke had to convince himself to sit down again (when he'd stood up, he wasn't sure) and not go looking for her.

It didn't seem right to just sit here and do... nothing, to wait for her to come while she crawled through this brightness like a diseased womp rat, but...

He _was_ doing something, wasn't he?

And Yoda _had_ said he was impatient... With a huff, Luke settled himself, and while it took a little more time, this time, to fall back into the Force and meditation, he finally managed. '

It rose up bright and washed away the spice-glitter, stale darkness that was Navda.

For the moment.

***  
**The _Executor_ , in orbit over Tatooine. Twelve hours after Navda's arrival.**

"When can we expect you back, milord?" Piett asked quietly, but not quietly enough it wouldn't be heard by the other three officers and the stormtroopers standing honour guard for their commander leaving the flagship. As was intended.

"In a few hours. I will require no welcoming committee, Admiral. Proceed immediately to our destination when the shuttle has returned," Vader said calmly, acknowledging Piett's bow with a slight twitch of his helmet, and then he turned and strode up the ramp to the Lambda shuttle he'd be taking down to the surface. Both he and Piett knew he would, most probably, not be on the shuttle when it came back, though.

No one else would, however, and all anyone else would see was Lord Vader's shuttle returning to the _Executor_ and the flagship then proceeding to its intended destination of Endor, to rejoin the rest of the Death Squadron. Thus, the fact that Darth Vader wasn't actually on the _Executor_ ought to be concealed for a little while, at least.

If that would help at all.

When his Master found out the _Executor_ had made a stop at Tatooine, he would probably not be fooled either way. This subterfuge might be useless even disregarding his Master finding out what stops the _Executor_ had made on the way to Endor; his Master _always_ found out, after all.

... If not always until years later, sometimes, as was the case with his son.

It was that thought Vader was using to keep the sense of hopeless apathy away, to focus on where he _needed_ to go. Tatooine was, now that he was paying proper attention, bright enough in the Force to spill all over, but he could still tell where his son was... if not with the sort of accuracy he'd gotten used to after their confrontation on Cloud City and on the Sith moon.

Closing his eyes, Vader tried to ignore his destination; it _burned_ that he was going back here, and willingly. But Luke... he had already decided that the response to the vision... dream... whatever, would be to seek the boy out and take him off Tatooine, since that was, clearly, where the vision would be happening.

There was of course many other places with the same shade of rock, but in the hours since he'd left Mustafar, that vision had come twice while he'd attempted to wrest other possibilities from the dark side, and the familiarity had burned through him. And with that, the realisation of the possibility that going to get his son might make the vision come true.

But he would not turn back, not now.

As long as they were quick, then, _surely_...

_Lightning and red light playing on sand-coloured rock, Luke on the ground, face twisted with what could only be pain._

_'Father, no!'_

Jerking as the shuttle set down, Darth Vader took a harsh breath, partly forced by the respirator. Standing up, he walked into the cockpit.

"Take the shuttle to Bestine, and if I have not contacted you before dawn, you are to return to the _Executor_ ," he rumbled, and, of course, got a chorused 'yes, Lord Vader!' from the pilot and the co-pilot. No questions as to why, or why not, only obedience. 

And, as he left the shuttle and watched it lift off, he would've had them wait in Bestine regardless of if his intention had been to return to the _Executor_ or not, since having the shuttle wait here, on the southern hemisphere until it was nearly dawn would've been a death sentence. The pilots were competent enough, and it would've been a waste to risk their lives.

Turning towards the rock wall a few dozen meters away, Vader followed it with a frown, peering into the darkened cave entrance he found.

"What are you _doing_ here, Luke?"

There was no reply of course, and while he could tell Luke _was_ here, the brightness of the Force in this place reduced Luke's suns-bright presence to the state he'd existed in shortly after the destruction of the Death Star; he could tell his son was reasonably close by, but not _where_ he was. 

No matter. 

He would find the boy, and then they would leave, because frankly, he couldn't see what was so important about what Luke might be doing here on Tatooine that couldn't be done elsewhere, in particular as it related to the lightsaber the boy needed to build. Where Luke went after that, he had no opinions about - desires, perhaps, but he would not risk the boy against Palpatine if he wasn't firmly on the dark side.

The important thing was to avert the vision, the echo of which haunted his steps as he walked into the cave.

***  
_Be ready... doing here, Luke?_

Breath catching in his throat, Luke startled out of his meditation again, the voice of the past (or whatever that apparition _actually_ was), blending together with the distinct baritone of his father. Strangely enough, not the not-quite-as-deep, but still authoritative and charismatic voice Luke would hear when they talked mentally over their connection, but rather Vader's _normal_ , vocoder-modulated voice.

Either way, his father was here.

The reality of that burned brightly in the Force, like a freezing wind cutting through through the day-hot air, and Luke didn't need to pay much attention at all to notice the cold, frozen sun that was his father, now much closer than it'd been in the week since they left the Sith moon.

What _also_ was close, very, very close, in fact, was Navda's spice-glitter darkness.

Looking up, Luke swore. Pulled out a ration stick from his bag since his stomach was a solid, angry knot and he realised he hadn't actually eaten since... Since he arrived? He wasn't sure if he'd eaten during the day or not. A single ration stick really wasn't a lot, but it'd put _something_ in his stomach.

Getting to his feet, Luke looked around the cave again; oval, with eight statues spread out along the walls, this not counting the statue in the lake. No real good places to hide or use as fortification... With a shake of his head, Luke walked over to the nearest statue, leaving his spot on the floor - which, he noticed as he turned around, dropping his bag by the statue's feet, consisted of a circle of thicker greenery now than when he'd sat down.

Tiny, yellow, pink and white flowers decorated the circle, lit up by the hovering lights above.

Then a stale, cold sensation slithered through the air, and Luke didn't need to turn around, or even have her say anything, to know Navda had come into the cave. The entrance _she_ had used was half-hidden by the sweep of one of the statues' leaf-covered robes to the distant left of the chamber.

"Skywalker," she muttered, not even _sneering_ , but her eyes were narrowed pools of poison, and the lightsaber in her hand was casting twisted red highlights on the sandy rock and leaves. She also carried the double-bladed lightsaber low enough one end burned a path through the shy vines, and Luke frowned, flexing his hands to get rid of the sudden tension.

"Is that really _necessary_? What has it ever done to _you_?"

"Aw. Don't like it? I know how much _green things_ mean in a desert," Navda smirked, her words snapping against his mind, carrying biting lashes that grated right against his nerve endings--- Luke blinked and shook his head, taking a breath. 

That wasn't his imagination; whatever she'd done, through the dark side he assumed, actually left a tingling ache in his neck, behind his eyes. He met her eyes and her smirk widened, the split ends of her lekku twitching.

Then she swept her lightsaber low, and reduced a wide swathe of the little mat of green that covered the floor to ember-glowing blackness. He barely kept from rolling his eyes, but he also gritted his teeth and had to let the burst of anger he felt at that display go. It echoed with the darkness Navda had brought with her, clawing against the light around them, and then faded out.

"What do you want?" He cocked his head; was pretty sure he knew what she wanted--- The sudden spike of _pain_ as her face twisted had him doubling over, clutching his head and catching the blood dripping from his nose. 

The Force flickered through him; a warning, the path of what was going to happen in the next second visible before his mind's eye, and Luke pulled the Force close around himself and threw himself aside.

The red lightsaber buried itself in the forearm of the statue Luke had been standing in front of, then was yanked out as Navda turned to face him. There was a wild, nearly _heady_ grin on her face and her sharpened teeth were bared.

"What the Emperor wants; you. Dead."

She leapt, and he jumped back, closing his eyes and barely warding off the sharp prickles of her words as they tried to snag into him. 

This was... vaguely familiar. Something like this, but softer, intent on wearing him down and making him _surrender_ had been going on during the latter half of the... not-really-a-duel on Cloud City. His father had tried to make him stop; Navda was merely trying to _hurt him_ , and every barbed push he couldn't deflect made her eyes glitter and the darkness around her twist and flare out.

The pain - his pain - fed her and the dark side both in some strange way, and it left him having to swallow down nausea as he dodged, then threw himself out of the way... Grabbed a stone and hurled it at her, which she bisected with her lightsaber and sent the halves flying away.

This was not good. Unthinkingly, he reached out for something which would be of help to him against Navda. His father was--- 

The Force showed him red in front of his face and Luke pulled back, falling to the ground and barely avoiding a sweep of the blade that would've taken his face off. He turned his fall into a roll and then he was back up on his feet in time to have her on top of him again.

There was _nothing_ in here he could use, not against a lightsaber; the loose rocks he might be able to throw would require her to not intercept them and reduce them to smoldering chunks. And it was hard to concentrate, the way she kept trying to hack at him with lightsaber and the little dark side spears of _pain_.

He couldn't deflect or absorb all of them, and what he missed made him slightly slower, made her catch up again and leaving him trying to duck and dodge out of the way with no real way to maneuver, and what he was supposed to _do_ without either a weapon or some way to defend himself? 

He had nothing. He didn't---

_It's an energy field that surrounds and penetrates us._

The blade came down in slow-motion as the Force surged, but even that wouldn't help; he wouldn't be able to avoid it. Twisting out of the way would have it slicing through his left shoulder and down into his side, if not bisecting him, but then that would be it.

He needed to...

The Force hummed around him, bright, a shield if only he would use it, knew _how_ to use it. It was life and energy, like... like the lightsaber was energy.

Blinking, Luke stared up at the red blade of plasma and while he didn't, _exactly_ , understand, he suddenly knew what he _could_ do.

His hands came up without thinking and he caught fire in his grip.

" _What_?"

Caught the fire, and didn't let it spread.

Luke met Navda's gaze past his own raised hands, past the lightsaber spitting and straining against those hands, whole and faintly shimmering with a bare shade of energy between livid red plasma and vulnerable skin - fake and real both.

" _You_. How can you---" Navda snarled and strained downwards, tried to simply power through his block, and Luke grit his teeth. Was forced down to one knee and it was like trying to literally hold lightning, it felt like. 

It tried to escape his grip, eat _through_ him, and there was nothing but his own faint understanding of what he was doing with the Force and pure willpower between him and death and he _couldn't move_.

If he moved, the angle would change and she'd be free to slice through something vital.

If he moved--- Red erupted from Navda's chest and she stiffened, eyes going glassy and wide, and then she just... slumped. Her lightsaber turned off, and Luke fell back on the floor from the lack of pressure and needing to keep it away from himself. He was left blinking up into black durasteel, leather and cloth and the frozen, _angry_ sun of Darth Vader.

"Father?"

Navda collapsed on the ground, and her head rolled in a different direction.

"If you had gone to Ilum like I suggested, son, you would have had a weapon with which to defend yourself by now."

Staring up into the opaque mask and feeling the frustrated anger, something that was definitely a rebuke, and, underneath that, _relief_ that he hadn't been too late through their connection, Luke burst out laughing.


	7. Heart of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Vader wants nothing more than to take Luke and leave Tatooine before the dawn traps them for a whole day. Luke, however, wants to finish his lightsaber. 
> 
> As the old proverb goes... _wild Gundarks take the boy_!

Staring down at his laughing son, prickly annoyance slowly replaced the anger and even the relief. Even if it was, he realised, a rather rare luck he actually got to hear the boy laugh. But this had been going on for long enough, and Vader didn't really see what was particularly _amusing_ with any of this.

"Luke..." Keeping his voice carefully controlled lest he snarl, he offered his hand while Luke finally took a few deep breaths and smothered his laughter, an arm thrown over his face.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't actually very funny, I guess," Luke said from behind his arm, lips still pulled in a smile. He was still annoyed, but the curve of that smile smoothed over the sharpness of it, much to Vader's _further annoyance_. That the boy should already have such power...

"Thank you."

Darth Vader blinked, startled despite the fact that Luke had thanked him a week before, for a similar reason. Thankfully his surprise didn't reflect in his reaction as his hand automatically closed around Luke's as he finally took the offered hand and let Vader haul him upright. 

The child had no reason to be _thanking him_ , for surely all the things he had already done to Luke would weigh up any of the small attempts of protecting him that were done _now_.

"Obi-Wan did not know that ability. Where did you learn it?" Vader said, pushing the other thoughts away and looking the boy over instead, but aside from rumpled clothing, Luke seemed none the worse for wear. Looking up from where he'd been staring at the Twi'lek's corpse, already partly covered in creeping greenery despite having fallen merely a few minutes earlier, Luke shrugged.

"Uh... _here_. I learned it... here," Luke said slowly, pausing to frown and rub his neck, "I don't know how. I can't believe I just _did that_. I was just... trying to avoid her lightsaber and then I suddenly knew I wouldn't be able to and that that was _it_ and I had nothing to protect myself with, only the Force. And the Force is energy, like the lightsaber is... and then it just..." Luke gestured vaguely in the air with a hand, and Vader considered his son, then the cave lit with Tatooine-dawn light, its statues, and the glowing spheres hovering above them and the pool to the right.

"The Force is very strong here. Asking the right questions could, presumably, give you the answers you would need. You would know how to repeat it?" That was the most interesting thing here and would explain the method of Luke learning that ability on his own. For while a Force-sensitive would often find themselves capable of an ability in a moment of great need, usually they wouldn't be able to repeat it later until they'd _properly_ learned it.

Luke frowned, then closed his eyes, the sense of him growing somewhat indistinct as he focused elsewhere and inwards. Vader considered the solar brightness that was his son, standing out from the great, pressing background hum of the Force in this place mostly by the concentration of him. Luke was already so bright... the things he could do if he'd _just_ \---

Darth Vader sighed, too softly for the vocoder to pick it up and try to interpret and relay the sound, as Luke straightened up again and opened his eyes, a smile on his face.

"I could, yeah. It's not actually that hard."

He looked so _pleased_ that Vader decided not to inform the child that the ability to block a lightsaber or absorb Sith lightning - being, as they were, closely related techniques - were not _easy_ things to master. It was a testament both to Luke's strength in the Force and his ability to learn and the way he thought that made it seem 'not actually that hard' to him.

"Then we can leave," he said instead, his voice a quiet rumble through the cave, but Luke stepped away from the hand he'd reached out to catch the closest arm to guide his son out. The boy, instead, skipped over to where he'd dropped a bag he'd apparently brought with him, rummaged around in it to pull out a flask of water, took a drink and put it back with a shake of his head.

"No. I still haven't done what I came here for, Father," Luke said as he stood up, throwing his bag somewhat awkwardly over one shoulder and looking as determined as he'd ever seen him. Though, thankfully there were no abysses anywhere nearby.

"Luke, you _cannot_ stay here," he growled, stepping closer, "whatever else you are hoping to learn, you can learn it later and elsewhere, and you _still_ need a lightsaber. I can take you to Ilum myself if you wish, but we are _leaving_." He did not want to return to Ilum or anywhere else that was associated with the Jedi, but if Luke had to be difficult about this, he would.

His son shook his head, shifted on his feet and took half a step back as he stepped even closer.

"What I need is _right here_ , Father," Luke said slowly, annoyance cleaving his face before his expression smoothed out again and the sense of him in the Force, through their bond, suddenly glittered with something that caused foreboding to curl low in Vader's gut. "If you want me to leave... you'll have to catch me."

Luke flashed his stunned father a grin and whirled around, fairly _bounding_ across the cave with far more speed and agility than a normal human would be capable of.

" _Luke_!"

Wild Gundarks take the boy!

***  
Ignoring the bellow behind him, Luke focused only on two things; the Force, letting it flow through him and enhance his speed and reflexes, and the cave itself. The exit, not the one Navda or Vader had come through, glowed like a lamp in the darkness to him, despite being hidden behind the sweeping folds of a leaf-covered rocky robe and vines growing down the wall.

He ran, and didn't notice the steps of the stairs he took, or dashing to the right onto a narrow ledge. It was barely wide enough for an easy foothold without pitching over into the emptiness the wall ran along... barely wide enough while using the Force to balance himself, anyway. Far below, he could hear the gurgle of water, and the darkness was lit up by more of those hovering spheres, lighting up as he came close and dimming again as he passed.

Free-flowing water of this amount, on _Tatooine_! Even less the southern hemisphere, as hammered as it was by the suns, far more than the northern half. The Force must be protecting this place. Remembering what the ghost had said, he wondered what had happened...

As soon as he'd thought it, the glowing spheres rippled and the darkness heaved, almost causing him to misstep as great shadows seemed to sweep in over a rough but still green landscape, searing lances of light devastated all in its path and turning huge swathes of ground into literal glass.

 _They were drawn here, the invaders, our slavers. Drawn here for the light, and when they couldn't use it or make it dark, and we became too much trouble..._ the voice of the memory of the past whispered around him, and it didn't need to finish. 

What they couldn't control, they had destroyed instead.

Like...

No. His father hadn't, had he? 

He'd warned Luke he 'shouldn't let himself be destroyed' and 'don't make me destroy you', but even if the thought of Bespin made anger and nausea flicker through him and almost made him stumble as he jumped, sailing over the last part of the ledge which was broken to land on another set of stairs, he could see now that _destroying him_ hadn't been his father's intent.

Even now, even if Vader refused to consider that the dark side would probably _actually_ destroy him, that wasn't his father's _aim_. It was quite clear he just wanted to protect him. If in ways that wouldn't actually help him. 

Shaking his head as he left the stairs and ran into a gallery, one side covered in refracting, pale rose crystals and the other presenting a fall of green vines, Luke stretched out his attention towards his father again. He needed to know what his father was feeling. Perhaps it'd been somewhat unwise to tease him before he ran off, but he hadn't been able to help himself.

Anger. Frustration. Underneath that, fear and fierce, nearly desperate _protectiveness_ \--- and then the bond slammed closed almost all the way, leaving Luke gasping and nearly slamming headfirst into the crystal wall. Righting himself and gulping down a few breaths, Luke used precious time to center himself again.

His father wasn't close enough he couldn't take this moment, but he was still close - apparently the Force or the place in general wasn't hindering his father as it'd done to Navda.

 _Why did you come here, Father?_ A last breath and he closed his eyes, reaching out again for the insistent pull of _where he needed to go_. He found it just as Vader's frozen sun reached back and his mental voice thrummed in his head.

_Do I truly need to explain myself, Luke, considering the dead Inquisitor and the fact that I found you fending off her lightsaber **barehanded**?_

Shaking his head as he burst into a wide open space with terraces rising towards the walls, with the same sort of trees he'd seen depicted on the walls in the first stairwell growing in strangely ordered rows on those terraces. The air pulsed with heat, despite how far below the surface they must be, and the spheres in this room seemed hotter... reflected sunlight?

 _Well, **how** did you know I'd need help?_ Luke asked as he slowed down, tilting his head back. The ceiling was far, far above, dotted with tiny crystals that glittered in the light from the hovering spheres, and in places between the trees on the terraces, little waterfalls fell down each terrace to finally cascade down on the floor, gathered in narrow channels.

It was beautiful, and utterly stunning that it was even here.

His father was also being very quiet.

 _Father?_ Luke prompted as he walked across the room, at first intending to avoid the middle of it since it seemed to be a well of some sort - the channels of water led over there at any rate - but curiosity got the better of him.

 _I am not... unfamiliar with dreams and visions of the future,_ Vader said finally, slow like mercury and layers upon layers in that sentence, while Luke stopped at the edge of what he'd thought was a well.

It wasn't.

It was a shallow, perfectly round depression, with water barely a hand deep covering a single, large pearlescent stone that filled the whole depression. It didn't quite seem to be any sort of crystal, but wasn't just highly polished stone of some kind _either_. At some angles it reflected the trees, Luke, the shift of the water above it, the rocks and the pinpricks of crystals far above, and at others it was impassable like a star- and moonless night.

 _You... had a vision?_ He should probably have expected that, but he hadn't thought about it, at all. Luke squatted down at the edge of the depression, leaning over the water and peering into it. The Force hummed, bright, alive, and deeper than he'd ever felt it so far. It seemed similar and completely diametrically opposed and unlike the cave on Dagobah. _What was it?_

His father was silent again, the presence of him withdrawn and flat, and didn't yield when Luke brushed against him. About to stand up, since while the stone was interesting, it really wasn't anything else and if he wanted to keep ahead of his father he needed to leave, a flicker at the edge of his vision had Luke turning back around and look down again. The non-reflective reflection of the stone under the water rippled, just as his father spoke up again.

_It does not matter, son. You should simply be aware I don't wish to see you hurt---_

_Was it similar to what the Force showed me when you used Han and Leia as bait?_ Luke interrupted Vader, voice flat, hurt and frustrated his father considered his friends (and Vader's... own _unknowing daughter_ , and he couldn't think about that right now, for several reasons) no better than means to an end, but using it to get something useful out of Vader.

Silence, startled, aching and suddenly wary filled the bond with prickly weightiness while the ripples in the stone continued. Ripples definitely not created by the water, Luke noted as he stuck his hand in and made some actual ripples just to check.

 _It shares... some similarities,_ his father finally said, quiet and reluctant.

 _You saved me from Navda, though,_ Luke said, pushing away the emotions that wouldn't help at the moment and leaning a little further over the depression to watch as the ripples multiplied and fractured out over the stone. The light caught in the ripples seemed to form vague shapes...

 _Regardless, there is no reason for you to remain here, Luke,_ Vader snapped, his mental voice thrumming deeply with frustrated annoyance and thwarted paternal protectiveness. Luke would've laughed, recognising the last emotion, if he wasn't staring at the stone. 

Because it wasn't just light caught in the ripples, but actual images.

Light streaming through huge windows, showing an urbane landscape Luke could only guess was Coruscant outside of them, the view stunning. Him and his father standing in front of those windows, light bouncing off black armour as his father handed him a lightsaber, the hilt as black and shiny as his father's durasteel armour. When lit, the blade was red.

A dark, industrial-looking room with a star-studded viewport at the back and an old, robed man on a throne - _Palpatine_ , something whispered, a chill running through him - his father on the ground to the left, head nowhere near his body and a hole burned through his chest. Himself kneeling at the Emperor's feet.

Rain against transparisteel windows, a tall, dark-blond man running into the room with two children thrown over his shoulders. A stab went through Luke as he recognised himself, and, by association, a younger Leia, while the man, _his father_ , spun them around. In the doorway he'd run through, a slim woman with her dark-brown, curly hair cascading down from the elaborate metal hair decoration stood, laughing.

Blood drying on sand as a blue lightsaber cut through the darkness and Ben killed the last of the Tusken, taking a nine-year old Luke's hand and leaving the homestead and two more graves behind.

His father, older than in the image where he'd been carrying Luke and Leia, the same woman - _Mother_ , Luke thought silently, caught - by his side and Luke and Leia behind them, lightsabers in three hands and---

 _Luke!_ Vader's voice thundered through him and Luke jerked, sucking in a startled breath and tearing his eyes away from the rippling stone and the images, fading now that his concentrating was lost. _What happened?_

Chuckling quietly even if Vader couldn't hear, Luke rubbed his face and determinedly got to his feet, _not_ staring down into the stone again. Picked up his bag and reached out...

"Blast!"

Vader was really, really close.

"You know the Tusken myth about the Mirror of Regret?" Luke asked just as his father came into the cave, his ground-eating strides slowing down as he caught sight of Luke. Annoyance and curiosity flickered across their connection, and Luke turned around enough to see his father plant his fists on his hips.

"I believe everyone on Tatooine knows that tale, son," Vader said drily, then his voice hardened, "hardly relevant, however. We are _leaving_."

"No, no, it _is_ ," Luke shook his head and gestured at the depression behind him, "it's right here. At least I _think so_ , since it sure looked like possibilities and nothing like what's actually _happened_."

His father stopped, helm tilting, and Luke could feel the incredulity - he took advantage of the stunned pause and backflipped, landing neatly on the other side of the circular depression.

"Thanks for calling me, Father. Might've touched it otherwise," Luke said, pretty sure touching it would have been something he couldn't afford at the moment and ran off, hearing his father call for him again, frustration burning in the baritone.

***  
A growl tearing up against the insides of his throat, Vader stalked across the floor, dismissing Luke's ridiculous claim - the _Mirror of Regret_ , what fool did the child think him as? It was a morality tale of not wishing for the situation to be different, a horror story of ending up somewhere you didn't belong, a...

He stopped as he caught the water, no, the _stone_ rippling in the edge of his mask's vision, visible even through the red tint. He turned without meaning to and watched the ripples fracture and fractal. Saw the light reflected coalesce into shapes and then images and felt his heart twist as Mustafar's hateful glow lit a nimbus around Padmé's form, but this time, Obi-Wan didn't appear. This time, she pulled him away.

Luke, red blade in hand and training against a magna guard, Vader himself standing up on a walkway, out of the way of the floor and the two combatants, the door opening to---

_Don't touch it._

He whirled around, lightsaber in hand, as the voice hadn't been Luke's, rather something indeterminable and ethereal; not quite in his head, not quite verbal. A ghostly shape draped in robes and a veil stood where he had moments before, before Luke had run off. 

Its eyes were like Tatooine's suns.

"It is true, then?" He needed to leave, but his heart ached and rage lurked underneath, "the story and the dangers both."

The apparition tilted its head and wandered, or floated closer, it was impossible to say with the way the bottom faded out over the ground. Looking at it made him feel distinctly uncomfortable, remembering Obi-Wan's last words...

 _As true as time makes any actual event. It's the life of Tatooine before the invaders burned it, coalesced into a single point of potent **possibility**. So yes,_ it said slowly as it drew level with Vader and gestured at the stone in its depression, _it's true. The dangers, however, are only temporary, as few remain trapped. Possibilities that one doesn't belong in tend to reject the strangeness eventually. But listen well, Son of the Suns. If you wish your son to survive, you don't have time to soothe your heart, and you would regret it in the end, either way._

Staring at the trees and reflexively reaching out to Luke and getting an instant, if quick, flick of acknowledgement back, Vader let the respirator count out his breath. He would regret it, yes. Not because he would necessarily be stuck, as the apparition had confirmed - and it was speaking the truth - but because who would not regret seeing, _living_ something they couldn't actually have? Something that might be far better than what they _did_ have---

Gritting his teeth, Darth Vader turned away from the terraces and the trees and the Mirror all and stormed out of the cave, reaching out for his son's presence. He could not have what he might want, it was far too late for something _better_ as things stood. 

But there was still Luke, and he would not lose his son.

He paused in the archway Luke had disappeared through and turned around, more than expecting the cave to be empty of any blue-tinged apparitions. But it was still there, its eyes green like the leaves of the trees.

"Why?" Because he was a dark stain in this pool of light, a ripple of cold rage against both the pure brightness of his son and this place itself.

 _Weapons for those with none,_ it said, the words of the slave to another, like a silent thunderclap. For a moment it wasn't blue, but sand and fury.

Then the cave was empty, and Vader turned away, ignoring the spiking thump of his heart, the whisper of a memory long discarded to hear such words spoken ( _be brave, and don't look back_ ), and easily found his son even in this fountain of light and stalked out, down a short set of stairs that ended in an abyss. 

Bare flickers of light revealed thin pillars not even his enhanced vision could pick out easily - in the Force, however, even if he had to pull on every pained breath and turn it into rage and yank it through the light, the pillars were like beacons.

He leapt from one to the other, and not a single one crumbled under his weight, despite that they looked far too thin to carry even Luke. Luke, who was no longer moving, he noticed as he redirected his attention, landing on the other side of the frankly pathetic 'test'. There was no sense of distant distraction from his son, however, and no icy tingle of warning, so Vader slowed a little as he walked the next corridor, seeing pale light edged in colours spill out of an archway.

Luke's shadow was visible before his son was, standing a few steps inside the new cave room and head tilted back. Vader could understand _why_ ; the room had an array of crystals all over the place, sticking up in clumps from the ground, jutting out of the walls large and far enough to create veritable bridges spanning the cave, dropping down from the ceiling.

The cave hummed with the Force, almost as potent as it had been at the Mirror or Regret. Unsurprising, as they were all Kyber crystals. A nearly unimaginable wealth of them, though far less than the caves on Ilum, of course.

"Luke..." resisting the urge to sigh, Vader rested his hands on his belt as Luke turned around, looking very obstinate indeed, "find the crystal that is yours, then leave with me."

"You're going to let me..?" Luke blinked and stared, trailing off and waving his hand in the air to indicate the crystals. He deserved the surprise Luke was feeling at him giving in, considering he'd been trying to take the child away from here, but now that they'd gotten this far, Luke's surprise that he'd compromise was still a bit... insulting, perhaps. There was still hours left to dawn, so letting Luke pick his crystal here was still feasible.

And besides, perhaps it was better Luke get his crystal from here; this was not a Jedi Temple and the Force here hadn't been touched by any Jedi - it was the light side, yes, but far more acceptable than having Luke pick up his crystal on Ilum. 

Even if he was the one who'd suggested Ilum in the first place.

"We are here now. It seems somewhat unproductive to drag you out and force you to go to Ilum when Tatooine clearly has what you need, exactly as you claimed," he said drily and absolutely didn't snort as Luke rolled his eyes and then smiled faintly, dropped his bag and wandered off, shoulders loose and his pace unhurried. Soon, Luke's presence in the Force was distant and focused both as he concentrated, and the thrum of the Force rose around them.

Following Luke's progress with his eyes as much as through the Force, Vader wondered if he was being foolishly sentimental - how much longer until his Master would come, how much further until the vision came true, regardless of his attempts to stop it? 

Regardless of the incongruous assistance of what was the memory of the past... or perhaps the Force of Tatooine itself.

Luke was now up on one of the crystal bridges that spanned the cave, and Vader had no idea how he'd gotten up there - he hadn't seen - but his son walked as confidently as if it was the ground, despite that the 'bridge' was more of a thin pole. It reminded Vader of the Sith moon... though the crystal pole didn't crumble under Luke, not even as he jumped from it, then used another to swing himself around, and landed on a rock outcropping quite far up in the cave.

When he jumped down a few moments later, landing right in front of Vader, his smile was radiant with happy pride as he held out his hand and revealed three pale green crystals in his palm, one larger than the other two. 

Forcing the next breath out a little slower than the respirator liked, Vader wasn't quite sure of the sensation that weighed his heart as he looked from the kyber crystals in his son's hand and up into those bright blue eyes, the Force light and dancing around Luke.

He had not thought he would get to witness an event such as this.

"Well done, Luke," he said quietly, laying a hand on one slim, strong shoulder with only brief hesitation, squeezing carefully. "We need to leave now."

He did not get the chance to slide his hand down and grip Luke's upper arm; the boy twisted away as easily as water, backing away several steps and frowning.

"No, I'm not leaving. I'm finishing the lightsaber _here_."

 _No_! The thought was instant, furious - and carefully kept in his own head, even if he took a step closer. He was well-aware of the time slipping away, the hours left to dawn that would trap them here for a whole day, and if Luke actually sat down to assemble his lightsaber, Vader doubted it'd be done in time for them to leave before dawn had come.

"Luke, we are _leaving_ ," he thundered, pulling as much authority into his voice as he could, but the boy just shook his head stubbornly. He'd had beings many times his age, battle hardened or just strong of mind and will quail and give in when confronted with that tone, and here his son was just...

"Father, _please_." Luke looked up at him, earnest and bright and he... 

"I have everything I need," Luke said, gesturing to the bag on the floor. 

Darth Vader thought of lightning flickering on sandy rock and a scream, but he could sense nothing here other than the combined weight of the kyber crystals and Luke's intent excitement and pleading. Thought of the hours left. 

He closed his eyes. 

Luke came closer again, and the hand he laid on his arm, right at the bend of elbow and unknowingly to Luke between prosthetic and flesh, was small and barely noticed. The weight of it speared through Vader nonetheless, and he opened his eyes again.

He should pick the foolish child up and _leave_ , but stretching into the Force gave him nothing - he needed time to think and to pull the dark side close to figure out how much time there was left... 

He nodded sharply.

"Before I change my mind," he said shortly, gesturing Luke further into the room. Luke squeezed his arm and smiled faintly, and Vader gritted his teeth. How the boy could be smiling when this might be _dooming him_... 

But they sat down, Luke directly on the smooth, sand-coloured rock of the cave floor, Vader on a convenient boulder that hid a few crystals poking out of its sides.

His son hadn't been exaggerating when he said he had what he needed with him; he picked out all he might need out of the bag, laying them on the ground before him. Then he hesitated, frowning down at all the disparate pieces, the crystals in his hand, and up at Vader. 

"Meditation," he ground out after a moment and pretended Luke's smile at his answer meant nothing.

Watching his son slowly relax as he settled down and closed his eyes, Vader hesitated for a moment but decided to seek his own counsel. It would take a while before Luke was done, and _he_ would be finished long before _Luke was_.

The remembered yell of 'Father, no!' chased him down into the depths of the dark side as he reached for it, the brightness of the kyber crystal cave and his son's pure presence in the Force lost to him.


	8. The Poisoned Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Sidious notices something is Off and decides to torture his apprentice a little more. Luke gets his lightsaber, and notices something is most definitely wrong with his father. But the question is, how is he supposed to help him, and can it be fixed?

**Palpatine's shuttle, hyperspace.**

The first inkling he got that he hadn't been obeyed was when his repose close to the Force was disrupted by a slightly changed replay of that nonsensical vision from earlier. The Skywalker brat, glowing like a green star, kneeling among Nubian water plants at the edge of a fetid pool of water. Touching the surface, the ripples he sent out over the surface left the water crystal clear under a benevolent sun. The boy stood up and turned to the massive greater krayt dragon beside him, reached out to touch the black flank...

The blue star left behind burned through Darth Sidious' mind and attention both, though the red guards in the shuttle with him were too well-trained, too _heeled_ to move to his side without being indicated that they could do so. A snarl twisting through his thoughts, mouth and face, Palpatine sat back in his seat and sunk into the dark side more deliberately, looking for changes to his _other_ vision.

The Twi'lek lay alone on the ground in a cave, her corpse half-choked by plants. The cursed offspring of Anakin Skywalker hit the wall of another cave with a thump, crystals spearing out around him as he cried out and twisted underneath the lightning playing over his body.

Opening his eyes into the restful half-lit twilight of the shuttle, Darth Sidious smiled. Holding onto part of that vision, carefully brushing away the evidence of Sith lightning, he pushed the parts he'd pruned onwards, down a dark link vibrating with rage and pain. Nothing had changed substantially, and even what _had_ changed was manageable.

His apprentice would regret disobeying him, in whatever fashion the petty rebellion was taking the form of now, aside from still yearning for his son like a babe screaming after its mother.

And the son... he would die, leaving him the imperfect but proven quantity of Lord Vader, or kneel by Sidious' feet and then kill the father. Either way, the metaphorical vision mattered little, and he would make sure the latter came to be, with whatever outcome suited him the best. 

Skywalker, regardless of _which_ , was and would always be _his_.

***  
**Tatooine, southern hemisphere. The Force caves underneath the Kumumgah Force Temple.**

Something whispered with _cold_ against the heat and light around him, that _was_ him. Luke reached without thinking, opening his eyes when his hand closed about something solid and real and not just the energy he'd been immersed in for... quite a while. Breathing in, Luke stared at the long, elegant cylinder in his hand, and a smile split his face.

Shifting his grip on the lightsaber, he turned it over in his hands and traced along the curves and lines of it, recognising the designs. He hadn't ever gotten that good a look at Ben's lightsaber, but he recognised the upper part of his own now as following the same style, which wasn't _unexpected_ ; he'd gotten most of what he'd needed for the lightsaber from the storage underneath Ben's hut, after all.

The bottom, however, was nearly achingly familiar, ribbed and comfortable, if a shade slimmer than his old - his father's - lightsaber had been. He realised now he'd scoured Mos Eisley for the right parts for _this_ to be the result, even if he hadn't understood what he'd been looking for then. It worked surprisingly well, those two different designs melded into a coherent whole.

Picking up a tool at his feet, Luke quickly made a last few adjustments and moved to turn the blade on, then stopped.

One, perhaps he shouldn't do it this close to his father _or_ inside this cave, if he'd done something wrong and it ended up exploding on him. He could easily imagine such a flash reacting badly with the crystals in here, and he wouldn't want his father caught up in it. Two, he needed to check with Vader, because since his father _was_ here, he did want him there to (hopefully) see the finished result.

Just not... close enough to probably getting blown up with him if that ended up happening.

Looking up, Luke actually paid attention to his surroundings for the first time and saw _why_ Vader hadn't said anything - he seemed to be either resting, or in meditation. Not that that was visible from his straight posture or the angle of the helm or the mask itself, considering it was all as impenetrable as usual. No, Luke just figured it from the burning coal of cold, oily darkness that was clutched around his father...

Frowning, Luke slowly stood up from the ground, distractedly sticking his new lightsaber under his belt as he looked at his father. Sure, the dark side would feel wrong in here, and at all, either way, but this sense of it wasn't what he'd ever felt from his father before. The cold, contained sun that was _Darth Vader_ had never felt... oily. Not like it did now, layered strangely over the usual sensation of his father in the Force.

"Father..?" 

Vader didn't stir, not even when he carefully prodded their link. That latter was more worrying than the former in Luke's admittedly very limited experience and knowledge of things like this. So far, whenever he'd reached out, his father had always responded, even when he'd been practically half a galaxy away and probably sunk in either sleep, meditation, or otherwise distracted. 

The only exception had been when Vader had been trapped in the visions of his own fears on the Sith moon.

Running a hand through his hair, Luke wondered if he should just leave his father to it; it wasn't like he knew with any certainty how these things went, and maybe it was even _more_ different meditating in this place. 

He'd done it himself, after all, and while he doubted Vader was open to what the Force here might try to teach or open him to, if his father hadn't expected it he might have been pulled deep. So deep it'd take hours to get back out, like it'd done for him, earlier, before Navda had interrupted him.

Eyeing the great, black shape of his father, Luke rubbed his chin and slowly crossed the polished stone floor. The closer he got to his father, the stronger the sense of oily cold got. It also sharpened and _refined_ in a way that when he stopped in front of Vader, Luke couldn't resist glancing behind and around them to check that they were alone.

Because it didn't feel like they were; it felt like there was someone else here with them, as strange as that was. And more than that, as _wrong_ as it was.

"Father?" Again, the question garnered no response, and after a brief hesitation he reached out and laid a hand on an armoured shoulder, shaking gently. No response to that either, but even with the solid weight of armour underneath his hand, Vader felt very stiff, and he could swear he could almost hear screaming.

Letting go and taking a step back silenced the not-sound, but didn't lighten the sensation of a third presence in the cave. The Force, when he reached for it, whispered _urgency_ and _need_ , but no real explanation as to what needed to be urgently done. 

Watching the light reflected from the crystals slide off polished black armour and again noticing the slight, but very uncomfortable-seeming stiffness in Darth Vader's body, however, Luke could _guess_.

But how was he supposed to help when his father remained unresponsive? What was he even supposed to _do_? Repeat what he'd done on the Sith moon and reach past the unresponsiveness to see if he could alleviate it, or would something else be needed?

Glancing around the cave, Luke snorted at himself. It was quite obvious, wasn't it? So far he'd gotten the answers he'd needed by asking _the right questions_ in here. So he closed his eyes and reached for the Force again, holding the thought and question of needing to help his father in mind.

The answer, now that he was paying attention, simply affirmed his earlier thought. Do what he'd done on the Sith moon, reach deeper into his father's consciousness than just trying to talk to him telepathically. Opening his eyes, Luke sighed. It had left him uncomfortable to do it then, and the idea left him uncomfortable now too. Vader would have nothing to say about it, and this would be the second time Luke would go that deep, even if it was _for_ his father.

Well. He could try reaching him one more time before he went deeper.

 _Father? Are you all right?_ Luke asked through the link, but while he pushed a little more firmly this time, the words seemed to fall flat against the unresponsive presence on the other side of the connection, and, far more worryingly, the sense of something - _someone_ \- else being in the way was far stronger now.

That was _not at all_ similar to the situation when they'd fought the creature on the Sith moon. That, more than anything else, decided things for Luke and he stepped close, laying his hands on his father's shoulders after a brief moment of hesitation, then leaned forward, resting his forehead against the gleaming arc of the front of Darth Vader's helmet. 

Then, he reached inwards.

Along the link, past the unresponsive surface of the dark star that was his father, and _through_. 

In that moment, things were both familiar from the Sith moon and very much _not_.

The twisting flickers that the vision consisted of made it hard to get a sense of what he was even looking at beyond sandy rock, but aside from that, watching himself twisting in pain was both familiar and brought a familiar sense of uneasy vertigo. Every now and then - or perhaps the vision was looping - the vision of him would reach out, a look on his face that didn't _quite_ seem like pain to Luke, but he couldn't figure out what it was if not that, and scream _Father, no!_

The screaming he'd thought he'd heard earlier.

It took several unsettled repetitions of that before Luke pulled himself back slightly and was reminded of the one thing that was utterly alien compared to the other instance he'd been this close to his father through the link, and also all the more worrying; there was the sense of his father, but more than that, _beyond that_ , there was the overpowering, looming sense of that other presence.

Oily and colder than Hoth's nights, with a feeling of nearly nonchalant cruelty it wove through the vision, pressing in and _down_ with a sort of uncaring inevitability. How had he _missed this_ the last time, Luke didn't understand.

Though, considering that the last time he'd been trying to keep himself alive while pulling his father out of the visions of his own fears, not standing calmly with his hands on his father's shoulders. Last time, they'd been on a moon sunk deep into the dark side, not in what seemed like a fountain of light in the Force.

Against the brightness of the cave that Luke could still distantly feel around him, Darth Vader was a concentrated sun of cold darkness, the surface shimmering in gray... and the second presence like a hard, black hole, so obviously different Luke was still feeling a bit annoyed at having missed it before, despite the different circumstances.

Of course, adding to those... now they may also be closer than they were while fighting that creature.

Gathering himself, Luke pushed at the vision, but it remained fast - he even almost got tossed out on a wave of angry pain not dissimilar to what Navda had been lashing him with. He managed to stay mostly out of pure stubborn determination and the fact that he could tell it wasn't actually Vader that had attempted to toss him out.

Which, really, was actually worse than if it _had_ been his father.

 _Father? It's a vision. We can **change it**._ Luke wondered, briefly, if it would take time to reach Vader, but he'd barely finished before the sense of his father, so very close here, startled and sort of reared up, then around him and... Sighing, Luke pushed back. _Father, **stop that**. I'm not part of the vision._

 _... Luke?_ there was a pause, and while the vision didn't seem to disappear or change into something else, the pressure of it suddenly receded. _You seem to be making a habit out of this,_ Vader said drily, though there was no anger. Luke felt slightly embarrassed either way, and would've shrugged if he could have.

 _Only because you needed me to, Father. What's that other presence?_ Figuring that perhaps keeping his father distracted would work better to make the vision go away, Luke brought up the thing that was worrying him far more than realising his father was having visions of him either suffering or dying (again).

 _Other---_ Startled alarm stiffened into anger, and Luke suddenly had to fight to remain where he was - not because Vader was angry at _him_ , though. 

_Father, stop that! If you want me to leave I will, but what's..._

_**Master**._ The snarl seemed to reverberate all around them, whipping around like a krayt dragon's tail and Luke got the distant feeling of the ground underneath his actual feet trembling as well. His father's anger was black and yet flat, apathy sliding in the wake of the rage, as if the instant after the anger had been stirred, some awareness that this situation couldn't be changed had automatically followed.

It also brought a brief, flickering image of the wizened form of Emperor Palpatine past Luke's mental 'eyes', a rotted smile settled deep into drooping flesh and a flash of yellow eyes.

He shivered - or would have, if he could have - and reached for his father again, trying to smooth down the anger. At least the vision seemed completely gone.

_What do you mean?_

_It does not matter, son. He has always been here. I'm surprised you didn't notice before,_ his father said, calm again - almost unpleasantly so. Not _quite_ the apathy he'd sensed earlier, but almost. It left Luke bristling.

 _'Always'? You can't mean this is **normal** ,_ Luke snapped, unthinkingly almost trying to find whatever core there was of the Emperor's presence in here. He didn't really get anywhere, however, as something curled, dark and unyielding, around him. Vader didn't yet push him _out_ , however.

 _Cease. It matters little, and I will not have you draw any more attention to yourself, Luke._ The only thing even vaguely amusing in that statement was that the words came cloaked in paternal disapproval, so obvious this close to his father, unfiltered by the mask or other, less mundane guards.

 _Of course it **matters**! No one should have someone in their head like this. Is this what you meant by that he would be able to find you if you tried to disappear?_ Luke asked, remembering Vader mentioning that when he'd told his father they could just _leave_. His every word carried his frown for him before he quickly continued, _what can I do to help fix it?_

 _Son..._ the sigh slid around him, tired, flat and exasperated. Perhaps a little fond, if that was possible. Probably not something Vader would admit to. _I will do what I can to make sure you remain as you are, but it is too late for me._

Luke stared into the nothing that was, at the same time, brimming with his father's presence and felt frustrated outrage roar up.

 _It's not,_ he said quietly, trying to imbue as much of his determination into those two words as he could, _it's **not** too late, we could at least **try** , Father. Please let me help. Maybe being where we are will help, too._

 _A light side Force cave? Luke, you **are** still aware what I am, aren't you?_ his father said with a snort that seemed to ripple through the surface grey of his presence, leaving the cold darkness deeper down untouched. Luke huffed and straightened - or rather, his presence stiffened. Or something like it.

_Hard to forget, but maybe that's what we'll need to get rid of the Emperor's hold on you in here. Can't we **try** at least?_

Silence, and there was again the sensation of something wrapped, lightly but completely, around him. Luke remained still, mostly because he was worried that leaning into it would... he wasn't sure.

_... I see you are going to be difficult about this. Very well. This way._

The fiery cold tendrils tugged at him, and Luke followed them, quickly losing a sense of direction and his vague awareness of his own body. Vaguely, Luke was sure that if his father hadn't been guiding him and _letting_ him in, he would've gotten nowhere. Immediately, or perhaps an eternity later, his feet hit sand.

***  
Darth Vader hated the depths of his own mind.

Anakin Skywalker had as well, the rare handful of times he'd ended up this deep (never by design, as meditation was not something that came easily).

Around them, lit by three new moons that were more like bloodied claws in the starless sky than pale crescents, stretched an endless desert. In the distance, the salt flats turned into curving dunes. Once, there'd been suns in the sky. That was a long time ago, however.

It was just as long since he'd stood on the sand on two feet.

"Well, I guess this makes sense..."

He turned his head towards the mutedly exasperated mutter where Luke stood several meters away, no longer dressed in the clothes he'd been in earlier, but rather the same clothes he'd still worn when Vader had glimpsed him on the Death Star. Clothes fit for a desert. He closed his mouth sharply over the chuckle that slid out in reaction to his son's glum appraisal.

"It's not funny, Father---" Luke turned around, then snapped his mouth closed, eyes widening a little as he stared. Tilted his head back further, and stared some more. "... Father?"

The sigh rumbled out of him, smooth and unburdened by either respirator or vocoder.

"Yes, Luke. The reason you look like _that_ , has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that this looks like a desert," he said it only slowly, reluctant to explain, but Luke was staring at him as if he'd never seen him before and well. 

That was _fair_ , considering the red-tinted moonlight was sliding off black skin and horns, the tip of a tail lazily sweeping back and forth, scraping off the surface layer of salt on the ground, and caught in burning blue eyes set deeply under the crown of horns.

Currently, Darth Vader looked like nothing else but a greater krayt dragon.

"If..." he paused, turned his head away to stare out at the distant dunes, feeling distaste crawl through him, and if Luke wasn't here, he would not be doing this. He frankly wasn't sure why he'd allowed the boy to convince him to try this at all. "If I knew what you looked like when you were younger, that is, undoubtedly, what you would currently look like."

Luke was silent for long enough he turned back to stare down at his son, but his expression was as indecipherable as his silence, and this close there was no reading to be had through the Force. Not because they didn't still possess it, as interwoven as it was in their very beings, rather because, like this, they were simply too close, and he'd have to make an effort to read the boy's mind instead of simply picking up the feelings Luke either didn't bother to or couldn't shield. 

Finally, a soft, considering noise escaped his son, and Vader wasn't sure he liked the amusement now clear as day on Luke's face.

He liked it even _less_ when Luke suddenly moved, reaching out. What was the foolish child even _thinking_? He had no idea...

"Luke," Vader growled, the noise satisfyingly vicious, tearing the air like the claws of his five pairs of feet were clawing the ground as he backed up. His son, however, _of course_ , persisted, ducking underneath the arc of his neck and darting close.

The hand was small, and warm, and it was nothing at all like a real, physical touch, but it still shot through him.

"What are you even afraid of, Father? I know you wouldn't hurt me now."

 _Now_.

He wasn't quite sure of the sensation that ripped through him at that phrasing. It was impossible to deny, but it was gone too fast for him to contemplate it, disregarding that he would rather not. Bespin had been both necessary, and a serious miscalculation. It was also over with.

"The mind is not the same as the physical world, son," he said finally, turning his head to consider the slight, pale form of his son, seeming almost like a flame against his flank. The boy had the audacity to cock his head and then smile at him.

"Yes, I know. That's why I know you wouldn't hurt me," Luke said, calm certainty in his voice and making him seem far older than Vader knew the young man was, "so all of this is because that's how you imagine it?" Luke glanced around and then looked up at him, following his body until their eyes met, an eyebrow arched. 

He could not stop the huff that rumbled through him.

"It is not as voluntary as you seem to think it is, Luke."

Luke stared up at him, head cocked, then finally nodded. Though that seemed more like an acknowledgement of what he'd said rather than Luke necessarily believing it.

"I guess we should start... walking?" Luke turned away, looking over the desolate salt flat and the distant dunes, hesitation colouring his voice, "since the longer we take with this the bigger the chance is he'll notice?"

He honestly didn't know. He was not a mind healer. Had never possessed the desire or capability to be, so how meditation this deep actually worked, he couldn't have explained even if he wanted to. 

All he was certain of, was that in here distance and destination wasn't the same thing as it would be in the physical world, and getting to where they (supposedly) needed to go was probably less about _walking_ than a frame of mind. But Vader had no idea where his connection with his Master would be - wondered, briefly, if it would be such a good idea to take Luke close to it - so 'walking' it was.

"Coming in here, you did not have any thought of how to accomplish what you wanted to do?" Vader asked drily, allowing the smile to curl the corners of his mouth, only barely displaying the teeth hidden within. Luke huffed, then gave him strange look before he shook his head and determinedly set off in what was probably a completely randomly chosen direction.

"I'm sure it'll come to me," Luke said, and Vader snorted and set off after his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kumumgah are, of course, the ancestors of the Tusken and the Jawa, and the form of what the Force apparition took and the people it was talking about. It's from Legends. c:


	9. An Age-Old Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and his father wander Vader's desert mindscape, have an unpleasant conversation, and begin their confrontation with Darth Sidious.

Aside from the sand shifting under his feet and skittering away from every step, this 'desert' didn't much resemble a real one. There was no lingering day heat radiating off the sands, the air held neither heat nor biting night-time cold, and there was no wind. Luke noticed that their steps - his own barely making scuffs on the hard ground, and his father's heavier, larger ten leaving deep gouges - didn't kick up the trailing veils of sand that were starting to accumulate from the nearby dunes.

Glancing to where the huge, red-limned form of Darth Vader, currently in the guise of a greater krayt dragon walked, in a rather odd, swaying gait to account for both the bulk of the stomach and the five pairs of legs and clawed feet, Luke wondered when _this_ had become the imagine Vader wrapped around himself, like a less necessary and more benevolent form of the suit he wore.

The dragon was immense, and it stirred some primal fear in Luke, despite that he knew that this wasn't a _real_ krayt dragon... Shaking his head, Luke noted that, somehow, despite their differences in size at the moment, he was keeping pace with his father. It was an amusing juxtaposition, but it reminded him of where they were and what he wanted to do.

"Father..." Luke said slowly and Vader turned that huge, horned head towards him, but he looked out over the desert as they slowly scaled the first dune, the sand kicked up by their steps simply resettling on the ground again. If they'd been walking on Tatooine, both of them would've accumulated a fine layer of grit _everywhere_ by now. Luke was grateful they weren't. "Why that shape? _When_?"

His father froze for half a step, and the head swung away in a sinuous curve. In the distance, there was a livid, red glow on the horizon between the desert and the starless night sky.

"It does not matter."

Luke was starting to get a bit tired of that phrase.

"I'm pretty sure it _does_ , you can't tell me this would _always_ have been what you looked like, here," Luke said, could admit to the little huff that escaped him as he gestured to his father. He didn't bother to try and encompass the whole of him, because like this he was simply too large for such a gesture to be easy.

"And if I did?" Vader rumbled, a faint warmth in the words that _almost_ were lost in the rough growl of the dragon's voice. Curiously, like this, Vader's voice didn't exactly sound like it did when he spoke to Luke through their link... Torn between amusement at what had been teasing, however slight, and the sudden realisation that his father was, even in here (though maybe it was fairer to say 'especially in here'), hiding, or shielding himself, Luke bit his lip.

"Well, not much I could do, since this is the first time I'm here, but I'm not going to believe you," Luke said lightly, then paused briefly to glance up at his father from the corner of his eye, "but you don't have to _hide_ , you know."

It occurred to Luke when the huge form of the dragon froze momentarily again, that his father might not just be hiding from _him_ , but from _himself_ as well. 

Perhaps even more so.

"I am _not_ ," the hiss was ice and poison, the air turning frigid, which was shocking after it had been utterly neutral since they appeared in here. Drawing in a breath cold enough it hurt and exhaling (leaving no trail of condensed air escaping), Luke focused on the hot red glimmer in the distance, not the oppressive anger of Darth Vader.

"Father, I _know_ what you can do." Reflexively, he flexed his right hand. It wasn't a prosthetic in here, he could tell, but where it counted, it _was_. Thought of rushing into Leia's cell on the Death Star, thought of Ben's empty robes falling onto the deck. Thought of Vrogas Vas. Of _Bespin_ , and Leia's slow, hurting recount of hearing Han scream...

"You know _nothing_ , Luke!"

A wind blew up, tearing sand with it, and briefly, Luke was almost tossed right out - could feel the solid ground wavering under his feet, saw the suggestion, distant and washed out in light sharp enough it seemed unreal, of his father's armoured (and very Human-shaped) frame. He dug himself in and _refused_ to leave.

Because he still had a thing to do, here, but also because those words hadn't been an accusation. All he could hear, the growl stripped free from the voice for a brief moment, was dead rage and self-loathing.

"I _know_ you attacked Mother---"

The storm cut off so abruptly Luke was yanked back into the desert surroundings of his father's mind with the equivalent of a breath-stealing _whomp_ , and the air was hot, now, and smelled distinctly of sulphur. The shape of the dragon wavered and for a fleeting moment, what he saw wasn't the greater krayt dragon, wasn't the armoured form of Darth Vader, but a dark-robed young man with burningly yellow eyes and a frozen, terrifying expression etched deeply on his face.

Then his father was solidly back into the shape of the greater krayt dragon, the first pair of legs off the ground, the long neck a high, stiff arc far above.

"And you are here, still?" Vader said slowly, flatly. Despite his guise, his father's voice was shockingly human now, no longer swathed in a dragon-deep rumble. It was a tired baritone, far softer and less imposing than the rasping thunder that was produced by the vocoder. " _When_ did you find out?" The dead acceptance in Vader's tone broke to let wariness in alongside it. As if he was bracing himself for the answer.

Frowning up at his father, Luke crossed his arms. Admitted he was feeling both some betrayed anger over the fact that Vader hadn't denied it and the same flat acceptance he'd felt back when Ben told him about it. It also fuelled the desire to know what had _happened_ ; all he'd heard so far, as little as it was, about his mother from Vader made it clear he had loved her, so _how_..?

"Shortly before I came here to rescue Han, Father." 

There was no way to mistake the shuddering flinch that ran through Vader when he said 'Father', and Luke shook his head. Was it because now that he knew Luke knew about _that_ , he didn't think himself worthy, even when he was still, even now, possessive (it was like a light touch on his shoulders, fragile and distant at the moment, but still there). Or did he read some sort of accusation in those words---

Well, all right. There might have been something like that in it. Just a _little_. Luke took a breath and let it out slowly, then straightened up and tilted his head back. His father met the stare unflinchingly.

"Ben told me, after I mentioned to him that Artoo had said she'd tried to talk to you. What _happened_?"

There'd been another flinch when he'd said she'd tried to talk to him, though suddenly that bright blue stare twisted into a scowl.

"Obi-Wan is _dead_. How was he capable of speaking to you only a few days ago?"

"He's been appearing to me through the Force almost since you killed him, Father. I only heard his voice at first, but I've seen him too. _What happened_?" He should probably be a bit more considerate, take it slower, but Luke was starting to lose his patience, and he _wanted to know_. "Why did you do it?"

"He's been---" the great head shook, a snarl in Vader's voice, and Luke didn't need to pick up his father's emotion through the Force and their connection - impossible as it was in here - because the anger was all too clear. 

Then his father reined himself in, refocused when Luke only stared up at him.

It was no longer hot, but cold again. The air still smelled like sulphur and ash as Vader lowered himself, the head turned in a low arc towards the glow of red on the horizon. The ground trembled faintly beneath them, but compared to the sandstorm that had almost tossed him out earlier, Luke wasn't sure he could've left even if he wanted to, now. 

There was a quiet sort of pained acceptance pinning him in place.

"She tried to give me things I could no longer see were enough. She wanted me to come with her, to hide and raise our child together," Vader said slowly, still staring at the red light, "I had helped bring down the Jedi, because they were a threat to the peace and stability the Republic, the _Empire_ , needed. We needed to take more _direct_ action, and I know she could have---"

The baritone wavered, closed up and Luke stared. That sounded very similar to what his father had been telling him in Cloud City, similar to what he knew he still wanted him to do, even if he knew Vader no longer thought he could make Luke agree to it.

"Obi-Wan had followed her. When he revealed himself, I was convinced she had turned against me. My Master later told me I'd killed her, despite that I had felt she was _alive_." The flat, cold recount suddenly burst to life with livid rage, in sharp contrast to the apparent temperature around them, which plunged further into finger-stiffening frigidity.

Taking an achingly cold breath, Luke forged on. He didn't actually want to know this, didn't want to possibly add this to what his father had already done, but...

"... before that, did you ever---"

" _No_!"

Luke froze, stunned not so much for the bellow - still so very human, not a single trace of the dragon's earlier rumbling snarl in the yell - but rather for the fact that he had never heard, would never have _expected_ to hear, Darth Vader sound utterly horrified.

It was cold enough it was actually hard to move, now, and everything but his father, in his guise of a greater krayt dragon, seemed indistinct. Determinedly, Luke crossed the stretch of desert between them and reached out. 

The black, finely scaled skin was soft durasteel and furnace hot under his hand, just like it'd been when he first touched his father here.

"I'm sorry."

Silence.

Luke didn't move, even as the crushing cold lightened a little and he heard the faint movement of air rushing past something, then felt more than saw the huge shadow of Vader's large head behind him.

"And why are _you_ apologising, son?"

Turning around, Luke admitted to being startled at how close the giant head was, but managed a faint smile and reached out again, laying his hand on the end of the snout. Vader kept still. It was ironic, maybe, that it was easier to do this here, where there was no actual physical touch happening, where his father was wearing a shape that was anything but his own, rather than doing it in the physical world.

Luke resolved to rectify that situation, if his father actually let him, because it didn't escape him Vader seemed more open to touch here, too, after first trying to stop him.

"Because I had to ask," he said quietly, meeting the burning blue eyes, "I mean, even if it wasn't about _that_ , you haven't wanted to talk about her much at all." Considering the way his father had reacted when he first contacted him to try and ask for help against the rancor, thinking he was going to ask about the datapad instead, and _this_ was so much more worse than _that_.

A soft, whistling sigh escaped in a hot puff of air from the large nostrils, engulfing Luke in brief warmth - though by the time it dissipated, the air was almost back to its earlier neutral temperature, so the change wasn't as drastic as he'd been bracing himself for.

"I may not like it, Luke, but you have a right to know," Vader said quietly, and Luke couldn't help the slight twist to his mouth.

"Not something you would've admitted to earlier."

He got a glare for that and an actual snort which almost pushed him away, "this is having an undesirable effect on me, and you are a bad influence, son. We should continue." With that, his father pulled away, though slowly, and started moving again. Luke followed the direction he started off in, then stopped, frowned and reached a hand out, feeling his father come to a stop as his hand landed on the tail.

"Not that way, I don't think," he said, still frowning at the glowing red light, which he could now vaguely see was coming from lava. "That's not where we need to go." He didn't know how he knew, but it was, suddenly, _obvious_. 

His father swung his head around, an expression clinging around the deep-set eyes that was probably the dragon equivalent to frowning, but Luke was still focused on the stark black volcanic cliffs he could see waver in the heat from the lava in the distance.

There was a lot of _hurt_ and rage and hate in that direction, a knotted tangle that already seemed to have begun to turn the soft durasteel of the dragon's skin as hard as durasteel ought to be.

"Where, then?" Disapproval, challenge and a question in one. His father didn't like having his implicit decisions countermanded, any less than he liked having his explicit orders and decisions questioned or refused. It wasn't surprising. Luke shrugged, closed his eyes. Stayed still for a moment and then turned, opening his eyes facing nearly the opposite direction to the glowing lava landscape in the near distance.

"That way."

As they walked in the new direction, the dunes started to flatten out, and soon there was a neat road underneath their feet, tall trees of a kind Luke had never seen and would certainly never have been found on Tatooine lining the road. They also passed the head of a statue partly buried in the sand to the side of the road, with startlingly green tufts of grass growing around its base.

There was a fresh, pale smell in the air, and it took Luke several moments to realise it was _water_. Water and foliage. Glancing up at his father, he noticed he was walking very slowly now, so much so that Luke, contrary to all logic, had to slow down not to overtake Vader. The buildings around them were graceful brick and stone affairs, many of the ceilings green domes, the walls covered in vines.

The red, claw-shaped new moons were gone, but the sky was still lightless black above them, _despite_ the fact that there seemed to be sunlight burnishing everything around them.

"Father---"

"No," Vader growled, the rumble familiar but still in that very human baritone, and Luke smiled faintly.

"I wasn't going to ask about _this_ ," he said, gesturing to the buildings around them. He wasn't, even if he was curious. "Another question. _Why_ did you turn?"

He didn't expect an answer, and Vader was silent for long enough Luke was sure the silence itself would have to be his answer.

"There was no other choice I could see. The dark side has served me well since then."

Twitching, Luke turned his head to frown up at his father, but he wasn't looking at him. 'No other choice'? The words rang hollowly, with the same weight of Obi-Wan's aborted 'someone had to. However, I couldn't kill him' when he'd revealed he'd fought his father. 

Sighing, Luke shook his head and let it drop. It was a more honest answer than his father's claims that the dark side was more powerful than the light side and that it'd given him the power he needed, the power the Jedi were keeping from him, but it wasn't actually much of an explanation. He would get no more answers about this, though, he knew. Not now.

Maybe not ever, though he _had_ gotten answers about his mother that he hadn't thought he would.

They crossed a bridge that led over a river, ending not very far away into a huge, but soundless, waterfall that could barely be glimpsed from this side. Luke's attention was quickly drawn away from the sight, however (mostly because it was weirdly truncated, the desert seemed to begin again just beyond the waterfall), because on the other side of the bridge there was a decorative little pool next up to the towering wall of the building they'd come to.

A picturesque, still pool, with grasses and plants growing around its edge.

It was also a sludgy, oily, black, and the sensation of that _other_ presence, which Vader had said was his master, was suddenly sharp and clear in the air.

"Looks like we found it," Luke muttered as he frowned at the pool, sensing Vader shifting beside him. The presence of his father which had so far been light at his shoulders was suddenly heavy again, and the whole scene briefly wavered, then solidified. That reaction made it seem very long ago that he'd accusingly asked his father if he'd hand him over to Palpatine, and Vader had defended himself (or maybe Palpatine) with that his master had given him _power_.

Smiling up at his father, Luke ducked away and walked up to the edge of the pool. Kneeling down, he hesitated with his hands over the surface, because _what now_?

Distantly, like false dawn on Tatooine, he felt the tickling pressure of the Force, felt the power and the light of the caves they were actually in. A half-memory of his father closing down their connection, the feel of their bond in general and then the overbearing, dark and terrifyingly _pure_ presence of Palpatine that emanated from this pool.

Frowning, he touched the thick liquid in the pool with the very tips of his fingers and pushed. Tried to... he wasn't sure, but the closest imagery he could find was not so much draining the pool as pushing the sludge away from the water that _should_ be in it.

A second.

Two, and there was a faint shimmer of clear blue at the pool's edge, around the plants.

Pain exploded, screamed hot and dark and full of claws through him, and there were ways he could protect himself, but he hadn't been able to against Navda's attack, which was similar to this but like the toothless gumming of a baby compared to---

"Luke!"

He was yanked away, met the ground with cracking force, stared up into the caves, stared up into a starless black sky that poured bright sunlight into eyes that weren't real, and _everything hurt_. He wasn't even sure where he was, _who_ he was, because it was still in his head, tearing at anything it could reach, searing nerves and thoughts alike.

There was a hand in his hair and someone was talking, but all he could make out was worry, anger, and fear. He clung to those, tuned out the mocking laughter he could hear above the voice that _counted_. Focused on those emotions, distantly also felt a bright, cold blade of _calm_ and grabbed that as well.

Vaguely, impossibly, because he still couldn't think, he remembered soothing away an ache in his throat and lungs at some point. When, he wasn't sure. But he didn't need to know _when_ ; only pulled that action to himself, turned it into a weapon along with the calm and the emotions that belonged to the hand still in his hair, and thrust, blindly, into the pain.

It dissipated, and Luke stared up into fierce blue eyes set into a scarred, pale face, and, beyond that, a figure hovering over the pool. It was dressed in a black robe with a hood pulled low over its face, the barest glint of sulphuric yellow eyes glinting in the sunlight. The end of the robe pooled and bunched far beyond where the figure's feet were supposed to be, giving the whole thing a shape somewhat like a Hutt.

"I should never have let you convince me to---"

"What is _that_?" Luke interrupted his father, then abruptly looked away from the figure that seemed to be made out of the same sludge as the pool, to stare at Vader. 

His father, who was no longer a greater krayt dragon, nor the furious, unreasonable force of nature he'd glimpsed earlier, or even in the suit he had to wear in the physical world. 

What he was looking at was a man possibly the age his father should be, pale from lack of decades of sunlight, a scar through his right eyebrow and down over his eye, ugly, half-healed wounds on his bare scalp and cheek. He was wearing stark black robes that shared some startling similarity to Ben's clothes, and was barefoot.

Both of which revealed the prosthetics that made up all four limbs.

Vader met his eyes, and they were still blue. Luke smiled, momentarily distracted from the sight over the pool and the pool itself, though him smiling seemed to make his father realise that not only was Luke seeing him, but realising exactly _what_ he was seeing. Suddenly there was a hooded robe pulled deeply around Vader, even as he held a still-bare, artificial hand out to help Luke up.

"That," and despite the earlier muted rage, his tone was flat now, "is my Master."

"Do not think it will be so easy, young Skywalker," the figure - Palpatine? - hissed, his voice seeming more solid, seemed to drag in even more of his presence into this place than even the figure of him did. If this wasn't serious, Luke might have smirked at the similarity to a Hutt the bunched end of the robe made.

Except, it was obvious, even if his father had so far refused to acknowledge that he was no better than a slave (he knew, undoubtedly, he just refused to admit it), _why_ this would be Palpatine's image in here. That thought solidified Luke's scattered thoughts and determination again, and he took a breath and squared his shoulders.

"That's where you're _wrong_."

Eyeing the image, Luke got the sense that Palpatine wasn't _actually_ here. Not like they were. He could be, if he wanted to, but he wasn't. Not _quite_ yet. Luke turned to his father just as a hand closed about his arm.

"Leave, Luke," Vader said - though it was difficult to think of _this_ man as Darth Vader, even with the hood pulled deep over his head - pulling at him. Luke refused to move and shook his head.

"We can do something about this, Father, but we need to do it _now_. You need to close your side of the connection off. I can help you."

Luke more felt than saw the frustration through the grip on his arm, and his father pulled, though surprisingly gently, on it. Compared to the physical world, however, here Luke could remain unmoved if he didn't want to be moved (unless his father forced him out, of course).

"Luke---"

"Father, _please_ let me help you. You don't have to have _that_ in your head anymore, we _can_ do something about it," Luke said, pointing to the dirty pool. The image of Palpatine seemed content to hover, but there was a sense of malevolence in the silent waiting.

"There is no way he can be removed, Luke," Vader sighed, cold apathy in his voice. Luke was beginning to _hate_ that.

" _Yes_ , there is, but you have to _want it_ , Father," Luke snapped, slipped out of the grip like it wasn't actually there, and stomped back to the pool. Right before he touched the surface his father caught up to him, clutching his shoulder and about to yank him off his feet and away from it.

Then Luke's fingers touched the sludge in the pool again.

They slammed against the solid, slippery presence of Darth Sidious like attempting to douse an oil fire lit on top of a lake with more water; it evaporated before it reached the flames. Luke felt the pain from earlier hovering like an impending thunder-strike, but this time there was a solid wall between him and the pain, and the attack missed.

He felt his _father_ convulse, however, and even if Vader could probably have defended himself, Luke drew together what he'd done earlier and again thrust it at the pain. Momentarily, it dissipated, but they didn't have much time.

 _Father, you need to close the connection. I'll help._ 'Close it' wasn't exactly what they would do, but it was the simplest way to phrase it. He was up to his wrist in the oily sludge, now, and it had turned his hand numb.

_Luke, there is no possible w---_

_Yes, there is! It's like a transmitter, Father, and those can be **removed** ,_ Luke hissed, knew it was unfair to compare this bond his father had with his master in the Sith arts to a slave implant, but this time there was no denial, only a sharp jerk in the sense of his father and the hand on his shoulder digging in.

"It's too late, young Skywalker," the image of Palpatine hovering above them hissed, and he raised his hands. The pool bubbled, and ice shot up his partially submerged arm. Luke swallowed the pained hiss that wanted to escape and screwed his eyes shut, and tried, _again_ , to do what he'd done earlier; push away and drain the sludge.

But he couldn't do it _alone_ , and the only one who could _actually_ do what would force Palpatine out was---

_Father!_

Cold, angry fire beat back the ice, and a fiercely determined presence wrapped around him. 

It then pushed past him. 

Past him, and suddenly the image of Palpatine disappeared with a noiseless pop. The sludge boiled, oily water spilling up around them, but while some of the plants died and the narrow strip of sand was soiled, the splashes missed them.

A geyser of oil and sludge shot up out of the center of the pool, then collapsed in on itself. 

The pool was clear, glittering in the sunlight.

"Go."

Luke didn't have the chance to say anything before he was suddenly falling.

***  
**Tatooine. Emperor Palpatine's shuttle, approaching the southern hemisphere.**

Darth Sidious shuddered, his eyes snapping open as he suddenly lost a over two-decade old awareness of his apprentice. Lips pulling away from yellowed teeth, Palpatine clutched his cane, ignoring the slight pain from old and abused joints.

Young Luke Skywalker was becoming quite a _problem_. And one, no matter how powerful and impressively resourceful, it was starting to seem he wouldn't currently have the chance to turn. Such things required some delicate work, after all, and he had nothing but the barest framework of a plan to be executed months into the future.

Months into a future that so far had been proceeding unimpeded!

Rage cooled Darth Sidious thoughts and his hands tightened further on the cane.

It seemed he hadn't taken the visions with young Skywalker and the krayt dragon seriously enough. That didn't mean he had necessarily lost Darth Vader - in fact, if he could just get rid of the son of Skywalker, things may yet be salvaged. 

Not to his full satisfaction, but it would have to do, and the trap months still away would still be able to be used for the rest of the rebels.

Leaning back in his seat, Darth Sidious nodded.

It was a waste of a perfectly and perfect potential apprentice to replace the worn out, apathetic one he'd been dragging around for twenty two years, but the older one would be far better than practically anything else.

It would have to do.


	10. Rise Against

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Vader, with some assistance, fight Darth Sidious, and while it doesn't end with all things solved, it's a good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  O! My Master  
> I have something I wish to say  
> O! My Master! (Watch your back)  
> I got lost in the desert the other day  
> O! My Master!  
> She was cruel and unforgiving, but I heard her say  
> O! My Master! (Watch your back)  
> I found a rock the other day  
> O! My Master!  
> I brought it with me to say  
> O! My Master! (Watch your back)  
> That with it I will rise against  
> O! My Master!  
> I'll leave for the desert today  
>  _-Tatooine, ca. 872 years old, from the Outer Rim Social History Archives, Alderaan_  
>  _Translation in Basic of Item V-AUF96/YB, audio recording. One of the few complete examples of Old Settler Tatooinian, with the only recorded example of clapping-signs (in the translation these are marked by the words within paranthesis). The archivist responsible for the translation and the recording was inspired by the fragmentary recording of this song stored at the Galactic Social History Museum on Coruscant. Anonymous singer._  
> 

Luke opened his eyes to the kyber crystal cave tasting iron his mouth, and something crusted caking his lips and underneath his nose. He had an uncomfortable feeling he knew what it was, considering that there was _also_ a thundering headache haunting his thoughts, and flickers of pain twitching through his joints.

Whatever the Emperor had done when he'd attacked, it hadn't been metaphorical; it'd done real damage.

Just as he let go of one broad, armoured shoulder to rub off the dried blood, his father shuddered, slumping minutely before he straightened up again, helm rising, and then he stiffened. Seeing the state of his face, undoubtedly.

"Luke---" 

Surprise, wariness, anger all bled together, curling around Luke's shoulders even as the baritone remained mostly impassive. One gloved hand twitched, then fell back on a thigh. Luke smiled, hoping his mouth didn't feel as gory as it _tasted_ since he wanted to reassure his father, not alarm him further.

"I'm... well, I'm not dead. Doesn't feel too bad, but I didn't think what happened in there would affect us physically," he said with a careful shrug, finding the movement didn't spike his headache or jolt the pain in his joints. If he could just have a moment, he could probably ease _some_ of the damage done, actually...

"I am fine," Vader said, dismissive and flat, waving away his inclusion in the injuries _both_ of them undoubtedly had gotten before they'd gotten rid of Palpatine's presence in Vader's mind. Frowning, Luke leaned back instead of getting up to his feet and dropped the hand he'd removed back on Vader's shoulder.

"Father..." breathing out the word on a sigh, Luke shifted closer. Ignoring the way Vader stiffened, he leaned his forehead against the dark, shining curve at the front of the helmet, one of his arms now around his father's shoulders instead of resting _on_ them. The other he laid against an arm, fitting his hand against the bend in the elbow and upper arm, squeezing what he knew was flesh, feeling the resistance of the metal cybernetic against his lower arm, "stop. You were injured as well when you shielded me. I _felt it_."

"Because you are _foolish_ and don't know when to stop," Vader rumbled, the mechanical baritone harsh - but underneath that, _beyond it_ , bleeding from his presence in the Force was hesitation, frustration and another sort of wariness than he'd picked up on earlier. Luke said nothing and remained where he was, thumb rubbing the leather, pressing down. And when one of Vader's hesitant hands came to rest, lightly, on top of his head, Luke smiled faintly.

They could not stay like this, of course.

The Emperor was coming - it was like poison slithering through the brightness of the caves, the light untainted but bending away from the oily, freezing darkness. Before he came here, Luke knew he'd have to at least have _tried_ to heal himself, and maybe, if his father let him, he could do the same for him.

That thought in mind, he reached for the Force---

_**Luke**!_

And nearly jerked back, physically as well as mentally, as Leia's irate yell rang through their connection, frantic and tight.

_Leia? What is it, are you all right?_

_Am--- am **I** all right?_ Incredulity exploded from his sister in brilliant shards of aqua. _**You** 're the one who disappeared, Luke! It was like you weren't there, or too far away for me to reach and you **weren't answering**! Any longer and I was about to leave for Tatooine,_ Leia snarled, their bond nearly quivering with her leashed emotion.

 _It's all right, I'm sorry. I'm still here, I'm fine. You don't have to come._ In fact, Luke thought with a sudden cold chill, Leia _couldn't_ come. Well, of course she wouldn't get here in time to interrupt the impending confrontation with the Emperor, but if it ended in any way that meant he and Vader couldn't leave under their own power and Palpatine _wasn't_ dead, then Leia would be walking into a fight she wasn't currently equipped to handle.

 _Luke..._ Questing worry stretched out towards him, and Luke let it, reached out with both reassurance and a request for the same in return, wrapping the responding soft, blue light, warm like the suns before it got hot, around himself. The headache receded a little. _What are you doing?_

Of course she would be able to tell something was about to happen, regardless of if he'd been able to reassure her or not. Leia was perceptive... and protective. And, admittedly, knew him very well.

_Just... be ready, Leia. I think things are about to change._

For a brief moment, the blue turned fierce, and he could practically _feel_ the demanding inquiry coming, before she drew back.

 _Two hours, Luke, and then I and the others take the_ Falcon _and come get you._

Luke drew back from that conversation and opened his eyes to his father's hands on his shoulders and the hovering, tightly leashed supernova pressing down on him.

"What---"

"It's all right. I'll tell you later, Father," Luke said, keeping his voice light and hoping that that would, at least, keep the questions until later. He wasn't going to bring up Leia right now. Not until the Emperor was dead. He swayed as he stood up, and Vader rose from the rock like a black, frozen wave, catching his shoulder.

"You should sit down," his father said, his voice containing traces of accusation as well as recrimination, thought that was aimed not at _Luke_ , but _himself_. Luke squinted at the ground at that, reflexively reaching out to offer reassurance - and of course right as he did that, all that remained of his awareness of his father's emotions was now the accusation. He snorted, reluctantly amused, and looked up.

"Just give me a moment," he said quietly and closed his eyes, drawing the Force close and remembering how he'd (learned to) healed himself earlier. The light swirled around him, soothing down along his thoughts and body both, and when he opened his eyes again, the headache was gone and the pain in his joints were bare, ghostly twinges of what they had been.

Walking over to where he'd left his bag, Luke pulled out his water bottle and cleaned his face, which did a remarkable job of making him feel a lot better than even the healing had. Taking a breath, he turned around to Vader to offer to heal him too.

"You finished your lightsaber," Vader said, disrupting Luke's train of thought and derailing the maglev train before it even got the chance to start. Luke eyed his father, considering for a moment. He should probably push, but then, unable to resist, he grinned and pulled his lightsaber out of his belt and walked back, holding it out for his father to take.

"I would've showed you earlier, but... well." He shrugged, holding the lightsaber out until Vader took it, turning it over in his gloved hands. The earlier anxiety for having maybe gotten something wrong suddenly came back when his father reached for the button that would open the blade. Gut churning, he opened his mouth then snapped his jaw shut as a thumb found the button and a bright green blade sprung forth with a familiar humming.

Luke couldn't keep from shifting a little on his feet while Vader slowly swung the blade around, sending green light skittering through the crystals, but stilled when the lightsaber was deactivated and held out for him to take.

"It is a well-made blade, and a..." there was a sigh, loud enough it crackled through the vocoder, but through the Force Luke could feel the strains of quiet pride as well as muted amusement, and he straightened up, "a Jedi weapon. Well done, son."

"Well done indeed, young Skywalker."

Luke froze as the rough, crackling voice echoed through the cave, followed by a quiet clicking noise that sent a shiver down his spine. His hand reflexively closing about his lightsaber, Luke whirled around while Vader stepped up past him. Emperor Palpatine came into the cave, walking at a leisurely pace around a cluster of kyber crystals, his cane tapping strangely loudly against the floor.

***  
Staring down at his master, he felt nothing.

Or rather, he was angry and felt decades-old betrayal burn through him, but there was no poison-chill pull, there was no blinding rage or thought-empty apathy. Darth Sidious was an oil-slick darkness in the brightness of the cave, powerful and alluring, making the darkness he brought with him sing with the emotions he felt, but they did not drown him.

The dragon stirred, whispering rotted desperation and rage, but it was... distant.

He knew what he needed to do, and he would do it, because his master would not get his son, nor kill him.

"This has gone quite far enough," Palpatine said, yellow gaze sliding from Luke to Vader and then back. The shadows cast by his hood were deep from the reflected light that played from the kyber crystals, making the yellow eyes seem to glow. Flexing his right hand and pausing right over his lightsaber, not yet grabbing it, he took a breath, steeling himself.

Despite the lack of a connection that, by now, had been in place almost his whole life (only mitigated by Obi-Wan's presence before he'd knelt to this man in his office), this wasn't easy. Perhaps it shouldn't be. He didn't _deserve_ easy, really. He closed his hand around his lightsaber, and opened his mouth - then Luke stepped past him.

"It could go further," his son said, and fear and incredulity kept him locked in his place, while the Force drew close around Luke, "we don't have to do this." 

The light brushed against the darkness, drawn through the crystals, from the very core of this blasted planet, and Luke's every word echoed with wary respect and his desire to reach out. Some of it bled back towards him, warming in the distance, and there was acceptance and, incomprehensibly, because he did not deserve that much, love.

"It's not too late to _change_." Crowned in unseen brilliance, Luke spread his hands, offering something his master didn't deserve and would not take. 

How his son knew to use his words, use the _Force_ that way, he didn't know, but it drew reluctant awe out of him. Though he supposed the technique was similar to what Luke had done to help him destroy the connection to his master. For a brief moment, despite his worry and anger, there was nothing else; he simply basked in the warmth of the light and the feelings, things he'd little expected to be given, even if he'd felt entitled to and sure of Luke's loyalty and obedience before their confrontation in Cloud City.

Cold death and rage suddenly battered at the light, and Luke staggered as if physically hit - he didn't dare to reach out to steady his son, for several reasons, but the boy straightened up, eyes narrowed.

"Oh, young Skywalker... that won't work," his master laughed, the noise grating as always, but there was an edge to it that prickled the skin on his neck this time, "my power is absolute, and you will _learn_!"

Lightning flew from Darth Sidious' fingers, and he flinched.

He'd been ready to strike, to pre-empt this attack, and yet, at that moment, he'd hesitated. Shame and anger reared up, darkening the light. He'd hesitated, because he'd expected the barrage of dark side energy to hit _him_. Hesitated, because there had been a flicker, however brief, that this was the will of his master, and who was he to stop _that_?

Luke screamed, there was a thump of flesh hitting unyielding rock, and Palpatine's laughter echoed through the cave. His heart thundered in his ears, in his chest, even as his breathing stayed even and deliberate, squeezing every single breath out at its determined rate while Luke twisted on the ground, seemingly to the same rhythm.

His son's hand groped, twitching, for the lightsaber that had fallen to the ground, halfway between where he'd _been_ and where he _was_ , on the cave floor up next to a tower of sparkling crystals. He couldn't reach it, of course. The lightsaber twitched next, tugged with the Force, but it was clear Luke couldn't keep his concentration, and the weapon clattered back to the ground.

This wasn't what he needed to do, what he _had to do_ , no matter who Darth Sidious was to him. He'd been a pillar of comfort and advice, but that had been a sham. He'd been a chain, keeping him grounded, _alive_ , even when he'd rather have followed his wife.

His master was a liar, and he was killing his son.

He closed his hand around his lightsaber, ignited it, and struck, crossing the distance between them in a single leap. He caught cloth, felt the briefest of resistance and the mask relayed a faint, momentary scent of burned flesh as Palpatine choked on a gasp and whirled away in time to avoid anything more than his back being lightly scoured.

"Lord Vader! You _dare_?" His master's face twisted deeper into its rigid folds as he grimaced, and suddenly the lightning came for _him_. He heard Luke gasp, a stuttering breath of _relief_ , the flickering light of his presence in the Force swelling again, and perhaps he could be forgiven the more than ten excruciatingly shameful seconds it'd taken for him to act.

He'd caught the lightning on the red blade, giving himself precious moments to act, but every step forward was an impossibility, and this was taking too long. He wouldn't reach Sidious in time. The plasma sputtered, flared; he heard something crack, barely audible, more felt than heard, really, but his master leapt back with surprising agility and he had no choice but to throw the lightsaber away to save himself.

The explosion rippled through the cave, sending razor sharp crystal shards flying through the air, dust raining down, and then---

"Father, _no_!"

Lightning struck, and Palpatine was laughing again.

All _he_ heard, however, twined together with Luke calling him, was the voice of a woman twenty two years dead.

_Anakin, please!_

He'd done what he could, but he would beg her forgiveness for having failed to kill his master before the lightning killed him, because now he wouldn't be able to protect Luke. The ground turned into a ruddy smear and rushed up to meet him.

***  
He couldn't _think_.

His body was a net of fire and pain, and while thoughts were next to impossible, even an inkling of thinking about moving sent shards of glass through his nerves. His joints felt like they were going to break any second now, and he _had to move_.

An abyss of cold darkness tempted, but the ground was warm and solid beneath him, and the sand rubbing against his palms let him focus, just a little.

"Yesss... feel that, son of Skywalker? Reach for it! If you want to save him, strike me down!" the Emperor laughed, every word a needle of ice-cold darkness, piercing through the light in the cave instead of skittering away, biting down. It shattered the focus he'd managed to gain. He couldn't... he _needed_...

The air smelled of singed leather and burning electronics and Luke could feel the seconds - the _life_ \- run away from him. Right beyond his awareness was a bright, heaving mass of gray, speckled through with lances of light and darkness. Each of them reached for him, then collapsed as they touched him, satisfied he was safe.

That was not good enough.

Black rage was right beyond him, desperation and _how dare he_ , but he still couldn't think, couldn't move. Otherwise it would be _so easy_... 

Distantly, Luke remembered the cure for his pain, and reached, unthinkingly, for the coolness that would ease it. The light rushed in, soothing the pain, giving possibilities instead of snarling his thoughts into a knot, and his thoughts cleared. The Emperor snarled something, but Luke, brushing against his father's presence, pushing some of the healing light into _him_ as well, was listening for someone else and didn't hear him.

 _Leia!_ He couldn't say much else, didn't have the words for what he needed at the moment, even less the thoughts - but she responded, worry, anger, and her specific fierce love roaring up around him like a cool, fiery ocean, drawn from across a distance which meant nothing. 

Not here, not to _them_.

Taking a breath, Luke got to his feet and opened his eyes. 

His lightsaber was on the ground, easily in the path between him and the Emperor and his father, but if his broke like his father's had... He shook his head and lunged across the space, throwing himself into a roll despite the spike of pain that speared his body. Nothing to do about it; he'd healed himself somewhat, yes, and Leia was cushioning the rest, but he wasn't actually _not_ injured.

But there wasn't time for anything else.

" _Skywalker_!" the Emperor bellowed as he came up in front of him, taking the lightning that came for him. It struck his raised palms, and for a brief, breath- and heart-stopping moment as pain screamed through him and tears welled up, stingingly hot, he thought he wouldn't be able to hold it. But Leia was still there, and while she didn't know exactly what was going on, her strength poured into him, bolstering his own, and the lightning got no further.

He couldn't move, but Luke figured, if he just had a few moments, he would be able to figure something out. He _had to_ , anyway, because the Emperor was staring at him now, teeth bared in a rotted snarl. The anger battered against him, but didn't break through.

Just a few moments. He had Leia's strength and his own, and there was his father to think of. He could do this.

The Emperor suddenly smiled, and a chill rushed through him.

"You have _lost_ , Skywalker. You just don't know it yet. He's dying," the Emperor said, a chuckle at the end. It burrowed down, doubt where Luke had before been sure he'd been in time, that, if they could just get through this and his father could get medical assistance in time, it would be _fine_.

The nimbus of barely contained dark side lightning flickered, needle-sharp tongues of it snapping against his hands and tearing into his nerves as the calm certainty warred with desperation and the anger he was only barely holding back.

"Yes. He's dying, boy, and what then? All of this, for _nothing_? You need to _act_ , not simply hold me back! What will this accomplish?"

Every word seemed accompanied by another tongue of lightning that escaped his grip, ripping through him. It was getting hard to think again and he...

 _Don't listen to him, Luke,_ Leia's voice was hard and broke through the film the Emperor seemed to have coated him in. Luke had a wild, irrational moment of worry that she'd figured things out and had to deal with the revelation of who Vader was all alone, which was _not_ what he'd wanted, he'd just wanted a better time than there'd been so far... _He's just trying to goad you, so whatever he's talking about, treat it like **nonsense**. It means nothing, it **is** nothing._

Relief, both that Leia didn't know yet and for what she was saying, turned the Emperor's voice into a distant, poisoned buzz. In the edge of his awareness, something black moved, limping but determined. Luke took a breath, gathering Leia's bright, fiery ocean around himself, reached for the light in the warmth of the rock and sand beneath his feet, and the speckled nova that was his father, and raised his chin.

"I helped him stand against you," he said, then coughed suddenly and tasted iron again as blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth and spattered on the ground. It couldn't be that bad, though, because he felt pretty okay. The cave was lit in flickering blue-white, a razor-edged darkness that clawed at the light but couldn't, quite, reach. Couldn't darken it.

"He's not yours any longer, Your Highness, and the Galaxy isn't either. It _never_ was," Luke said, managing a smile just as a large chunk of broken kyber crystal flew across the cave and slapped into a gloved hand. The Emperor startled and the lightning sputtered out, but Palpatine didn't have the chance to turn around before the crystal slammed with a sickening crack into his skull.

It echoed like thunder, followed by the thump of the black-robed body falling onto the ground. The large, armoured form followed after, raising the chunk of crystal again and brought it down twice more before it fell from a shaking hand and rolled away, spattered with blood and more. 

Luke staggered to his feet, licking the blood away from his lips and his hands raw and red, startlingly pale lightning patterns trailing over his palms.

He brushed against Leia's presence, poured all the love and gratitude he could into their connection, then pulled his father away from the still-twitching form of the Emperor, feeling panic claw at him from the thready noise of the respirator.

"Father---" he started, but was interrupted by another iron-tasting cough and a gloved hand curling into his clothes and pulling him down.

"You need to..." his father's unsteady, half-broken baritone trailed off, but Luke could feel it. There was him, there was his father - a brilliant, pulsing sun of muted light, still with flickers of black - there was the cave (Tatooine), and there was Darth Sidious.

The latter was a tower of darkness that felt like his father had imagined him in his mind, like the oily sludge had looked, and it kept rising. It pulsed like it was about to burst, and Luke suddenly knew, without a doubt, that when it did, it would lash out. Swallowing and getting another taste of blood as he did so, Luke closed his eyes and leaned down over his father, reaching out, uncertain what he needed.

He hardly needed to have worried, barely needed to formulate the question; the light soared, wrapped around them, and pushed away the darkness.

It heaved, pulsed, sick and swollen, and then exploded.

Strange shadows which weren't really there flickered across the crystals, through the Force - Luke _felt them_ as much as he _saw them_ , but focused on the feeling of the hard arc of his father's helmet underneath his forehead, on the weight of a hand weakly clutching at the cloth of the back of his shirt.

There was a noiseless, non-existent pop, and then the cave was back to normal.

Luke took a breath, for a second or two just _listening_ to the weak but reassuringly steady rasp of the clearly broken but still functioning respirator, and enjoyed the warmth being trapped by his father's hand on his back.

 _Leia... he's dead._ He had words, now, even if he also had a truly impressive headache, and she deserved to know what had happened, what she'd helped him do.

_He's... **Who**? Who's dead? And we're coming, Luke._

He would've laughed at her tone, so similar to one he'd heard from his father, but there was no time to laugh about that. He shook his head, remembered she wasn't there to see, and gathered his thoughts again.

 _No, it's fine, I'm--- I'm okay. The **Emperor** is dead, Leia,_ saying that, he smiled, unable _not to_ , and he felt the whole of her rear back and then crash back in, checking him over, soothing over his pain.

_The **Emper** \-- You--! **Luke Skywalker**! Stay put or so help me..._

He laughed, then, both through their connection and physically, though the latter left him curling up in pain a moment later, his father hissing at him to stay still, be more careful.

 _I'll try,_ he promised, and reasoned that, depending on what happened, maybe they could arrange a meeting here on Tatooine...

"Father, please don't get up," he said, frowning and pushing at the armour-covered chest as Anakin Skywalker moved when Luke finally sat up, clearly about to get up himself, "let me..."

"You should see to _yourself_ , first, son," his father snapped, worry and recrimination thick in his tone and through the Force. Luke rolled his eyes.

"Who's relying on a currently-broken, if still functioning respirator and life-support? Let me make sure you can last long enough on that until we can get you some medical assistance," Luke said, ignoring the half-way protest before he pulled the Force to himself and tried to help his father the best he could.

And almost staggered to a halt a moment later, realising the extent of not just the damage done in this battle, but what his father was dragging around _all the time_... and a lot of it not even necessary. 

A lot of it there _deliberately_. Hands shaking, Luke sucked in an angry breath and let it out, focusing on the light, on what he needed to do, focused on the damage done in the last... twenty minutes or so, nothing else.

Otherwise he might burn himself out, he realised.

"Father, what _is this_?" Luke snapped, then relaxed as a hand came up to rest on his shoulder, rubbing slowly.

"Sidious... made sure to keep me as I was," Anakin said, his voice more quiet than even the half-broken vocoder would account for. There was a familiar presence and authority in the voice still, something he'd heard in the mental voice more than the one produced by the vocoder.

"I see," Luke scowled, then sighed, "maybe we can fix this, now... you still need help."

There was a silent moment, a suspended one where the hand on his shoulder tensed a little and the presence of his father drew back, on the verge of saying something---

"The _Executor_ has adequate facilities. She ought to be in orbit by now," his father said slowly, and Luke let the tension that had gathered in his spine escape - maybe they'd argue later about what Anakin deserved or not in the terms of care, but not right _now_. "Sidious should have a shuttle outside. I doubt he ordered it to leave the southern hemisphere, and that should take us out of here before dawn."

It would probably take them a bit to walk out, what with his father's injuries, even if Luke had been able to ease them somewhat, but he nodded. They should make it out before dawn and then...

"I need to tell you something," he said as he helped his father stand up after doing what he could for both of them, then called his lightsaber to himself and put it in his belt, "but Leia needs to be here before I do that."

His father stiffened, then sighed.

"I suppose the Princess is on her way here already, then."

Luke couldn't help it, he chuckled at the dry, somewhat wary tone.

"She is. We'll figure it out from here, Father, but it has to be while working _with_ the Alliance."

The helmet turned to him, though Luke focused on keeping them moving out of the cave and the corridors beyond.

"Stubborn. Very well."

Smiling, Luke reached for his father through the Force while he squeezed the hand he'd thrown over his shoulder to help support him, felt him brush against him through their connection, and then reached for Leia. Her response was the equivalent of a huff, then a worried scan of his condition, _then_ she responded to his brush with her own flick of _love, happiness_.

They'd figure it out, even if Luke had absolutely no illusions about what Leia would think of the man who was her biological father; that wouldn't be easy, but both of them deserved to know... And then there was trying to do something about the Empire and the Alliance.

Well. 

The warm air that never dissipated into night-time coolness hit against his face when they finally reached the surface, and Luke took a deep breath, pausing to lean against his father for a moment. Anakin Skywalker tightened the grip he had on his shoulder, but didn't let more than a few seconds pass before he led them to where the Emperor's shuttle stood, pre-dawn false-shadows playing over the harsh angles.

They'd figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're done, people. I know this leaves last of the family reveal and resolving the whole issue of the civil war Empire/Alliance, but unfortunately I never had any ideas beyond this point, so for now this series is done.


End file.
